THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 


COMMODORE  BYRON  MCCANDLESS 


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>* 


TRAVELS   OF 

JOHN     DAVIS 

. -  VOLUME  I 

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x 


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TRAVELS 

OF 

JOHN    DAVIS       * 

IN  THE 

UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 
1798  to  1802 


' 


PRINTED    PRIVATELY 

AND  OFFERED   FOR  SUBSCRIPTION   ONLY  TO 

MEMBERS  OF  THE  BIBLIOPHILE  SOCIETY 

BOSTON  — MDCDX 


EDITED  BY 

JOHN  VANCE  CHENEY 

1  - 


• 


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INTRODUCTORY   NOTE 

THE  early  writers  on  the  United  States  of 
America  fared  hard  at  the  hands  of  the  critics, 
especially  of  the  English  reviewers.  One  of  Bris- 
sot's  home  biographers  styles  him  a  mediocre 
writer,  monotonous  and  verbose;  while  Due  de 
La  Rochefoucauld-Liancourt  —  poor  man,  come 
hither  to  rid  him  of  life  weariness  —  is  denied  y 

imagination  and  the  artistic  sense.    Isaac  Weld,  ,  x 

the  Irishman,  who  is  credited  with  the  laudable 
wish  to  forego  further  adventure,  and  bide  by  his 
English  hearth,  is  the  exception  proving  the  rule. 

But  critics  and  reviewers  to  the  contrary,  these  9 

writers  and  their  immediate  successors  —  among 
them  Birkbeck,  Fearon,  Melish,  Vaux  and  Welby 
—  all  have  left  useful,  if  not  invariably  appetiz- 
ing, records.  While  more  than  one  roving  his- 
torian  has  outdone  the  reviewers  in  savagery,  we 
of  today  find  that  hasty  censure,  even  deliberate 
abuse,  finally  begets  the  indifference  of  familiar- 

5 


ity,  and  we  learn  to  look  only  for  such  threads 
of  truth  and  fact  as  are  interwoven  with  it.  In- 
deed, we  really  ought  to  be  reconciled  to  the  most 
inflammatory  pattern  when  we  remember  that,  at 
the  time  these  doughty  chroniclers  plied  the  loom, 
we  were  still  far  from  the  culture  of  the  present 
crowded  hour,  when  Nesbitt-Thaw  portraits  and 
pruriences  can  be  the  staple  Sabbath  newspaper 
art  and  literature,  aye,  when  a  Biblical  magazine 
can  dedicate  its  sustentative  space  to  the  enroll- 
ment of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  among  the  jokers. 
Besides,  the  view-point  is  the  measure  of  a  man, 
and  is  as  much  to  be  forgiven  him  as  his  inches. 
A  smile  is  rebuke  enough  to  the  shade  of  the  sur- 
liest grumbler  come,  with  his  ursine  shuffle,  from 
where  he  may,  to  sniff  and  tumble  about  the  cradle 
of  our  infant  nation. 

The  young  Britisher,  John  Davis,  came  with 
lighter  tread  and  kindlier  intent.  For  this  very 
reason  —  the  supposition  is  pardonable  —  the 
British  reviewer  fell  to  using  him  for  his  mirth. 
"  Mr.  Davis,"  the  reviewer  of  the  Travels  begins, 
"  is  a  pedagogue,  who  would  be  a  wit  and  a  fine 
gentleman.  The  style  and  phraseology  of  this 
book  is  made  up  of  pedantry,  affectation  and  vul- 

6 


garity."  On  the  other  hand,  Jefferson,  to  whom 
the  book  is  dedicated,  expresses  himself  flattered 
by  this  graciousness  on  the  part  of  an  "  enlight- 
ened foreigner ; "  the  novelist  Brown  publicly 
vouches  for  his  ability ;  while  others,  in  a  position 
to  judge  fairly,  single  him  out  as  a  man  of  parts. 
The  present  editor  is  inclined  to  believe  that  the 
reader  of  today  will  accord  to  these  pages  the  old- 
fashioned  virtue  of  entertainment,  and  discover, 
here  and  there,  a  saving  passage  of  information. 
Davis  came  to  us  in  March,  1798;  in  search, 
not  of  price-lists,  wages,  rents,  but  of  new  men 
and  new  things,  warm  with  human  interest.  "  I 
have,"  he  wrote  Jefferson,  "  made  remarks  on  the 
character,  the  customs  and  manners  of  the  people  ; 
these  remarks  I  purpose  to  systematize  into  a  vol- 
ume." By  no  means  a  novice,  he  was  yet  young 
enough  to  be  impressionable  and  to  retain  the 
generous  dash  of  native  sentimentality.  Largely 
self-made,  he  was  a  man  of  letters,  —  of  the 
touch-and-go  sort,  to  be  sure  —  a  novelist,  a  poet, 
and  withal  something  of  a  philosopher.  When  we 
add  that  he  was  an  egotist  from  head  to  heel,  and 
gloried  in  it ;  that  he  had  a  quick  eye  and  a  ready 
pen,  and  that  he  had  sworn  to  bound  clear  of  the 

7 


V 


beaten  path  of  all  the  roving  scribblers  before 
him,  we  make  it  probable  that  he  has  something 
to  say  worth  reading.  One  expects  him  to  supple- 
ment the  observation  of  the  stereotyped  reporters 
with  sentiments  and  sidelights  not  discoverable 
on  the^more  substantial  records ;  and  this  he  does. 
There  was  enough  man  in  him  to  interest  Jeffer- 
son ;  to  get  him  into  the  good  graces  of  the  bril- 
liant and  unforgivable  Burr;  and  to  establish 
him  as  a  member  of  the  household  in  at  least  two 
of  the  "  best  families  "  of  the  South.  He  seems 
to  have  held  his  own  among  us,  whether  as  man 
or  as  litterateur;  and  it  is  pleasant  to  note  that, 
across  seas,  the  gentle  old  Bard  of  Rydal  made 
room  on  his  private  shelves  for  a  copy  of  the 
Travels. 

The  jolly  Gaul,  Caritat,  bookseller  in  New 
York  —  would  more  could  be  found  out  about  him 
—  set  Davis  to  work  on  a  book  immediately  on  his 
arrival;  and  if  poverty  compelled  him  to  travel 
on  foot  thereafter,  he  had  the  shade  of  that  hap- 
piest of  tramps,  Oliver  Goldsmith,  for  companion, 
and  he  was  never  in  want  during  his  four  years 
on  American  soil.  It  is  true  that  the  specific 
object  of  his  visit,  backed  by  his  natural  inclina- 

8 


tion,  led  him  to  consort  with  the  common  people ; 
it  is  as  true  that  he  did  not  miss  such  higher  op- 
portunities as  were  afforded  by  Jefferson's  first 
inaugural  address,  by  John  Randolph's  speech  on 
a  whiskey  bill,  or  by  a  dinner  at  the  capitol  with 
Vice-President  Burr.  He  braved  Joseph  Dennie, 
arbiter  elegantiarum,  the  American  Addison,  in 
his  sanctum ;  he  hobnobbed  with  Brown,  the  first 
in  time  of  our  men  of  letters;  he  was  assistant 
professor  in  a  college,  and  a  contributor  to  Fre- 
neau's  Charleston  Gazette. 

Granted  that  our  curious  frequenter  of  by-paths 
—  if  indeed,  they  are  by-paths  that  lead  to  the 
"  mud-hut  of  the  negro  and  the  log-house  of  the 
planter  "  —  is  never  profound,  he  is  always  wide 
awake,  and  nothing  if  not  naive  forever.  Un- 
moved by  the  great  events  of  the  time,  —  the 
trouble  with  the  Barbary  States,  the  birth-throes 
of  Ohio,  the  purchase  of  Louisiana,  the  first  con- 
sulate of  Napoleon,  the  death  of  Washington,  he 
delights  in  reviving  humble  names  now  all  but 
lost ;  in  giving  nervous  glimpses  of  the  ephemeral 
literary  folk  of  the  hour;  in  sketching  slave  life 
at  the  heart  of  the  aristocratic  family;  in  telling 
about  the  weather,  the  flora  and  fauna  of  the 

9 


South.  He  stays  a  week  or  more  among  the  hor- 
rors of  the  plague  at  Philadelphia ;  pauses,  on  the 
march,  long  enough  to  catch  the  charms  of  the 
Indian  bride  in  all  her  finery;  rises  to  fervent 
prophecy  over  the  city  of  Washington  in  the  pro- 
cess of  making ;  drops  sundry  observations  anent 
farming,  setting  down  anon  a  good  story,  such 
as  the  one  about  Franklin's  plagiarism  or  the 
experiences  of  old  darkey  "  Dick." 

If  Davis  shoots  under  the  mark  in  the  case  of 
Franklin,  he  hits  the  white  —  we  being  the  judges 
—  when  aiming  at  that  larger  target,  the  Ameri- 
can people.  "  The  mind  of  the  traveller,"  he  ex- 
claims, "  must  be  abstracted  from  all  local  emo- 
tion, who  can  enter  unmoved  the  city  at  the  con- 
fluence of  the  Potomac  and  Eastern  Branch.  He 
witnesses  the  triumph  of  freedom  over  oppres- 
J)  sion,  and  religious  tolerance  over  superstition.  It 

is  the  country  of  Jefferson  and  Burr  [Burr,  un- 
fortunately, like  Whistler's  Velasquez,  is  always 
there]  that  he  beholds !  It  is  the  rising  mistress 
of  the  world  that  he  contemplates !  " 

Here,  probably,  is  the  true  source,  as  has  been 
before  suggested,  of  the  English  reviewer's  sever- 
ity. At  any  rate,  it  becomes  us  to  play  the  gra- 

10 


cious  part,  to  pass  lightly  over  Davis's  page,  with 
its  cetera  valde  desiderantur  ;  sharing  the  amia- 
bility of  Burr,  who  tried  to  loan  him  double  the 
amount  of  money  he  asked  for,  and  of  that  most 
condescending  member  of  the  Drayton  family 
who  dispatched  a  negro  seventy  miles  to  get  him 
a  Spanish  cigar. 

To  the  bibliography  of  Davis,  printed  in  the 
appendix,  should  be  added  a  volume  of  original 
poems  (dedicated  to  Burr).  In  his  Memoir, 
printed  at  the  end  of  the  First  Settlers  of  Virginia, 
Davis  says,  "  I  wrote  an  American  tale  called 
Walter  Kennedy" 

The  present  issue  of  the  Travels  is  from  the 
text  of  the  first  edition.  In  order  to  bring  it  to 
the  required  size  it  has  been  necessary  to  practise, 
in  the  reprint,  the  gentle  and  much  neglected  art 
of  excision ;  care  being  taken  to  delete  nothing  of 
historic  importance,  nothing  that  would  help  the 
author  to  make  good  his  boast  that  he  was  a 
match  for  any  writer  privileged  to  repose  in  the 
shade  of  academic  bowers.  The  errata  of  the 
original  have  been  corrected ;  and  an  attempt  has 
been  made  to  render  less  apparent  the  staring 
slovenliness  of  the  text.  The  author  forewarns 

ii 


the  world  that,  having  been  closeted  with  Dryden 
and  Goldsmith,  his  English  is  proof  against  as- 
sault. This  is  part  of  the  fun  of  him;  for  in 
truth,  he  is  a  very  prince  of  the  wayward  phrase, 
who  would  not  trouble  even  to  verify  his  prodigal 
quotations  from  the  three  hundred  volumes  swell- 
ing his  scholar's  equipage. 

Davis  avows  that  his  book  shall  abide,  a  per- 
manent rebuke  to  explorers,  one  and  all,  specifi- 
cally to  those  hailing  from  Scotland  and  Wales; 
also  that  it  shall  serve  as  a  model  of  its  kind  to 
"  regale  curiosity  while  man  continues  to  be  influ- 
enced by  his  senses  and  affections."  The  fact  is, 
the  very  title  of  the  book  betrays  the  author's 
juvenile  tendency  to  hyperbolism.  He  saw  noth- 
ing of  New  England.  New  York  City,  Washing- 
ton, South  Carolina  and  Virginia  are  the  sum  and 
substance  of  his  United  States  of  America ;  round 
these  there  is  a  fringe  of  Maryland,  New  Jersey, 
Pennsylvania  and  Delaware.  Moreover,  it  is  to 
be  admitted  that  the  ground  he  visited  is  covered 
with  a  skip  and  a  jump.  But  things  contemporary 
are  difficult;  and,  with  due  allowance  for  short- 
comings, Davis's  Travels  remains,  a  free-hand 
scroll  of  "  original  cognitions,"  the  spicy  script 

12 


of  a  pilgrim  of  bygone  years  who  preferred  the 
dash  of  vanity  to  dulness  even  though  it  made 
him  scurry  past  the  remonstrating  coffin  of  Wash- 
ington for  reminiscences  of  Bohemian  joys  at  the 
confluence  of  the  Waccamaw  and  the  Winyaw. 

The  sketch  of  John  Smith  and  Pocahontas  — 
afterward  enlarged  to  a  novel  —  and  the  account 
of  the  author's  return  to  England  are  omitted. 
The  last  we  see  of  him  he  stands  in  classic  pose, 
the  sob  of  his  lost  Virginia  —  four-fifths  fancy, 
no  doubt  —  knocking  against  his  heart. 

J.  V.  C. 


AUTHOR'S   PREFACE 

HAVING  employed  four  years  and  a  half  in  trav- 
elling through  the  Southern  States  of  North 
America,  I  was  about  to  return  home  content 
with  regulating  imagination  by  reality,  when  the 
accidental  perusal  of  those  travellers  who  had 
journeyed  over  the  same  ground,  determined  me 
to  become  a  publisher.  Of  these  some  want  taste, 
and  others  literature ;  some  incapable  of  observa- 
tion, count  with  profound  gravity  the  number  of 
miles  from  place  to  place ;  and  others,  intent  only 
upon  feeding,  supply  a  bill  of  fare.  A  family  like- 
ness prevails  through  the  whole.  Their  humour 
bears  no  proportion  to  their  morbid  drowsiness. 
We  are  seldom  relieved  from  the  languor  of  indif- 
ference, or  the  satiety  of  disgust;  but  in  toiling 
through  volumes  of  diffusive  mediocrity,  the 
reader  commonly  terminates  his  career  by  falling 
asleep  with  the  writer. 

15 


In  comparing  this  volume  with  the  volumes  of 
my  predecessors,  the  reader  will  find  himself  ex- 
empt from  various  persecutions : 

1.  I  make  no  mention  of  my  dinner,  whether  it 
was  fish  or  flesh,  boiled  or  roasted,  hot  or  cold. 

2.  I  never  complain  of  my  bed,  nor  fill  the  im- 
agination of  the  reader  with  mosquitoes,  fleas, 
bugs,  and  other  nocturnal  pests. 

3.  I   make  no  drawings   of  old   castles,   old 
churches,  old  penthouses,  and  old  walls,  which, 
undeserving  of  repair,  have  been  abandoned  by 
their  possessors.    Let  them  be  sacred  to  the  Welsh 
tourist,  the  Scotch  tourist,  and  id  genus  omne. 

4.  In  treating  common  subjects,  I  do  not  ac- 
cumulate magnificent  epithets,  and  lose  myself  in 
figures. 

That  this  volume  will  regale  curiosity  while 
man  continues  to  be  influenced  by  his  senses  and 
affections,  I  have  very  little  doubt.  It  will  be  re- 
currea  to  with  equal  interest  on  the  banks  of  the 
Thames,  and  those  of  the  Ohio.  There  is  no  man 
who  is  not  pleased  in  being  told  by  another  what 
he  thought  of  the  world,  and  what  the  world 
thought  of  him.  This  kind  of  biography,  when 
characterized  by  simplicity  and  truth,  has  more 

16 


charms  for  the  multitude  than  a  pompous  history 
of  the  intrigues  of  courts,  the  negotiations  of 
statesmen,  and  the  devastation  of  armies.  The 
Memoirs  of  Franklin  the  printer  come  more  home 
to  my  feelings  than  the  History  of  Sir  Robert 
Walpole's  Administration.  I  behold  the  conclud- 
ing page  of  the  one  with  the  same  eye  of  sorrow, 
that  the  traveller  in  the  woods  of  America  casts 
upon  the  sun's  departing  ray;  but  the  other  is 
task-reading,  and,  in  perusing  it,  I  consult  more 
the  taste  of  the  public  than  my  own  disposition. 
Yet  even  Franklin  studied  his  ease  in  withholding 
his  Memoirs  from  the  world  till  he  was  beyond 
the  reach  of  its  censure;  and  I  know  no  writers 
of  eminence  who  have  ventured  to  encounter  the 
malice  of  ridicule  by  the  publication  of  their  own 
biography  but  Wakefield,1  whose  loss  the  sons  of 
learning  are  yet  deploring,  and  Kotzebue,  who  is 
still  holding  the  mirror  up  to  nature. 

There  are  some  who  would  conceal  the  situation 
to  which  my  exigencies  reduced  me  in  America; 
but  I  should  blush  to  be  guilty  of  such  ridiculous 
pride;  and  let  the  insolence  of  those  who  scorn 

1  Wakefield,  Gilbert  (1756-1801),  English  scholar  and 
controversial  writer. 

17 


an  honest  calling  be  repressed  by  remembering, 
that  the  time  is  not  very  remote  when  all  condi- 
tions will  be  levelled;  when  the  celebrated  and 
obscure,  the  powerful  and  weak,  shall  all  sink 
alike  into  one  common  grave. 

Though  my  mode  of  life  has  not  been  favour- 
able to  the  cultivation  of  an  elegant  style,  yet  in 
what  relates  to  the  structure  of  my  sentences  I 
shall  not  fear  competition  with  those  who  have 
reposed  from  their  youth  under  the  shade  of  aca- 
demic bowers.  He  who  can  have  recourse  to  the 
critical  prefaces  of  Dryden,  the  voluble  periods  of 
Addison,  the  nervous  sentences  of  Johnson,  and 
the  felicitous  antitheses  of  Goldsmith,  may  spare 
himself  the  trouble  of  seeking  that  purity  and 
decoration  of  language  in  a  college,  which  may 
be  found  in  his  closet.1 


1  While  contemporary  writers  were  wandering  in  im- 
aginatton  with  Ulysses  and  ^neas,  and  growing  giddy 
with  the  violence  of  poetical  tempests,  I  was  performing 
a  sailor's  duty  in  a  ship  of  nine  hundred  tons,  and  encoun- 
tering the  gales  off  the  promontory  of  Africa. 

I  have  visited  many  places  in  the  eastern  section  of  the 
globe.  I  have  been  twice  to  India.  I  am  familiar  with 
St.  Helena,  Batavia,  Johanna,  Bombay,  Tillicherry,  Goa, 
Cochin  and  Amjengo.  I  was  four  months  at  Canton; 

18 


In  the  progress  of  my  work  it  will  be  discovered 
that  I  have  not  joined  myself  to  that  frantic  crew 
of  deists,  who  would  prostrate  every  institution, 
human  or  divine ;  and,  though  I  dedicate  my  book 
to  a  republican,  it  is  not  the  magistrate  but  the 
man  whom  I  address.  I  am  no  republican !  No 
federalist !  I  have  learned  to  estimate  rightly  the 
value  of  the  British  Constitution ;  and  I  think  no 
system  of  government  so  perfect  as  that  of  King, 
Lords,  and  Commons. 

A  word  more  before  I  conclude.  Should  the 
critic  detect  the  vanity  that  not  infrequently  swells 
my  periods,  let  him  be  assured  that  he  cannot  be 
more  sensible  of  it  than  I.  When  a  man  becomes 
the  historiographer  of  his  own  actions,  he  can 
scarcely  avoid  this  error  without  degenerating 
into  the  opposite  one  of  affected  diffidence.  I  have 

and  I  have  toiled  up  the  Table  Mountain  at  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope. 

Let  me  be  forgiven  this  impulse  &  me  faire  vatoir.  It 
is  what  every  small  traveller  does.  Behold  the  Welsh 
tourist !  He  crosses  the  New  Ferry,  enters  the  ale-house 
on  its  border,  calls  for  pen  and  ink,  lugs  out  his  enormous 
commonplace  book,  awes  the  family  into  silence  by  the 
profound  wisdom  of  his  looks,  and  solemnly  sits  down  to 
fill  a  solemn  chapter  with  the  tempests  that  harassed  him 
in  navigating  the  Severn ! ! ! 

19 


often  caught  myself  making  my  own  panegyric; 
the  fact  is  indisputable ;  yet  it  is  still  better  to  be 

vain  than  dull. 

J.  DAVIS. 

April  aa,  1803. 


BANKS  OF  THE  OCCOQUAN,' 
August  31,  1801. 

SIR: 

In  frequent  journeyings  through  your  country,  I 
have  made  remarks  on  the  character,  the  customs  and 
manners  of  the  people;  these  remarks  I  purpose  to 
systematize  into  a  volume,  and  to  you  I  should  be  happy 
to  be  allowed  the  honour  of  dedicating  them.  The 
object  of  my  speculations  has  been  human  nature; 
speculations  that  will  lead  the  reader  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  his  own  manners,  and  enable  him  to  compare 
his  condition  with  that  of  other  men.  In  my  uncertain 
peregrinations,  I  have  entered  with  equal  interest  the 
mud-hut  of  the  negro,  and  the  log  house  of  the  planter ; 
I  have  alike  communed  with  the  slave  who  wields  the 
hoe,  and  the  taskmaster  who  imposes  his  labour.  My 
motto  has  been  invariably,  Homo  sum;  humani  nihil  a 
me  alienum  puto;  and  after  saying  this,  whatever  I 
were  to  say  more,  would  be  idle  declamation. 

I  am,  Sir, 
Your  most  obedient,  most  humble  servant, 

John  Davis. 

Thomas  Jefferson,  Esq., 
President  of  the  United  States 

of  America, 
Monticello,  Virginia. 

2O 


MONTICELLO,  September  9,  1801. 

SIR: 

I  received  duly  your  letter  of  August  31,  in  which 
you  do  me  the  honour  to  propose  to  dedicate  to  me  the 
work  you  are  about  to  publish.  Such  a  testimony  of 
respect  from  an  enlightened  foreigner  cannot  but  be 
flattering  to  me,  and  I  have  only  to  regret  that  the 
choice  of  the  patron  will  be  little  likely  to  give  circula- 
tion to  the  work:  its  own  merit  however  will  supply 
that  defect.  Should  you  in  your  journeyings  have 
been  led  to  remark  on  the  same  objects  on  which  I  gave 
crude  notes  some  years  ago,  I  shall  be  happy  to  see 
them  confirmed  or  corrected  by  a  more  accurate 
observer. 

I  pray  you  to  accept  the  assurances  of  my  respect 
and  consideration. 

Th.  Jefferson. 

Mr.  Davis, 

Occoquan,  Virginia. 


21 


CONTENTS   OF  VOLUME   I 

VOYAGE  FROM  BRISTOL  TO  NEW  YORK 25 

CHAPTER  I 

Pursuits  at  New  York;  Interview  with  Mr.  Burr; 
A  Walk  to  Philadelphia;  A  Tribute  to  James 
Logan;  Yellow  Fever  desolating  the  City;  Em- 
bark for  South  Carolina.  33 

CHAPTER   II 

Projects  at  Charleston;  Solemnity  the  Mask  of  Ig- 
norance ;  Interview  with  a  Planter  and  his  Lady ; 
The  Erudition  of  a  Professor ;  A  new  and  desir- 
able Acquaintance;  College  Toils;  A  Journey 
on  foot  from  Charleston  to  Coosohatchie.  65 

CHAPTER   III 

MEMOIR  OF  MY  LIFE  IN  THE  WOODS  OF  SOUTH  CAROLINA 

Ocean  Plantation;  Poetry  delightful  in  Solitude; 
Walks  in  the  Woods;  Family  of  Mr.  Drayton; 
Sketches  of  Natural  History;  Deer-Hunting; 
Remarks  on  Slaves  and  Slavery;  Militia  of 
Coosohatchie  District;  A  School  Group;  A 
Journey  into  Georgia.  86 


CHAPTER  IV 

Picture  of  a  Family  travelling  through  the  Woods; 
Terror  inspired  by  two  Snakes,  and  the  Gallantry 
of  an  American  Boy ;  Residence  at  Ashley  River ; 
Removal  to  Sullivan's  Island;  Literary  Projects; 
Anecdotes  of  Goldsmith;  A  Journey  on  Foot 
from  Charleston  to  Georgetown;  Reception  at 
Georgetown;  Death  of  General  Washington; 
Journey  back  to  Charleston;  Embark  for  New 
York;  Incidents  of  the  Voyage.  126 

CHAPTER   V 

Engagements  at  New  York;  An  American  Author; 
Mr.  George  arrives  at  New  York;  Epistolary 
Correspondence;  A  Visit  to  Long  Island;  The 
Classical  Elegance  of  the  New  York  Reviewers 
exhibited;  Journey  to  the  City  of  Washington.  156 

CHAPTER   VI 

Emotions  on  entering  the  City  of  Washington ;  The 
Plan  of  the  Place ;  The  Inauguration  of  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson. 169 


24 


VOYAGE   FROM    BRISTOL   TO 
NEW   YORK 

HAVING  formed  the  resolution  of  visiting  the 
United  States,  I  repaired,  December  15,  1797, 
from  Salisbury  to  Bristol,  with  a  view  of  embark- 
ing on  board  a  ship  of  two  hundred  tons,  which 
lay  at  the  quay,  and  was  bound  to  New  York. 
The  captain  had  purposed  to  sail  the  2Oth  of  the 
same  month,  but  it  was  not  before  January  7th  of 
the  new  year  that  the  vessel  moved  from  the 
wharf,  when  the  spring  tide  enabled  her  to  pro- 
ceed down  the  river. 

For  my  passage,  which  was  in  the  steerage,  I 
had  paid  seven  guineas  to  the  merchants  who 
chartered  the  vessel;  and  my  mess,  which  was 
with  two  young  gentlemen  of  my  acquaintance, 
cost  me  only  three  pounds  more.  But,  with  this 
money,  besides  provisions,  we  purchased  a  stove, 
which,  during  the  voyage,  was  a  treasure  to  us. 
It  not  only  fortified  us  against  the  cold,  but  we 

25 


cooked  our  victuals  upon  it;  and  the  drawer 
which  was  designed  to  hold  the  ashes,  made  an  ad- 
mirable oven.  Hence  there  was  never  any  occa- 
sion for  us  to  have  recourse  to  the  caboose ;  but, 
on  the  contrary,  when  the  frequent  gales  of  wind 
which  we  experienced  caused  the  sea  to  break 
over  the  vessel,  the  cabin-boy  solicited  leave  to 
dress  his  dinner  on  our  fire.  In  relating  these  cir- 
cumstances, I  must  claim  the  indulgence  of  the 
reader  not  to  rank  me  among  the  courtiers  of 
Alcinous ;  men  fruges  consumer e  nati.  My  only 
motive  is,  to  suggest  to  the  enterprising  traveller 
at  how  small  an  expense  he  may  be  enabled  to 
cross  the  Atlantic. 

The  cabin  was  by  no  means  an  enviable  place. 
It  offered  neither  accommodation  nor  society.  Its 
passengers  consisted  of  an  Unitarian  priest  and 
family,  and  two  itinerant  merchants.  The  steer- 
age group  was  composed  of  a  good,  jolly,  Somer- 
setshire farmer  and  his  housekeeper,  who  were 
going  to  settle  in  Pennsylvania,  of  the  two  young 
gentlemen  I  have  already  mentioned,  and  myself. 
Having  repeatedly  crossed  the  equator,  and 
doubled  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  there  is  no  occa- 
sion for  me  to  say  that  the  ocean  was  familiar  to 

26 


me;  and  that,  while  the  other  passengers  were 
sick  and  dejected,  I  was  in  health  and  good  spirits. 
To  the  roll  of  the  vessel  I  was  fully  accustomed; 
but  my  companions,  not  having  gotten  their  sea 
legs  on  board,  tumbled  grievously  about  the  decks. 
The  library  which  I  had  brought  with  me,  con- 
sisted of  nearly  three  hundred  volumes,  and  would 
have  endeared  me  to  any  place.  The  Muses, 
whom  I  never  ceased  to  woo,  blessed  me,  I 
thought,  not  infrequently,  with  their  nightly  visit- 
ations ;  and  I  soothed  my  mind  to  tranquillity  with 
the  fancied  harmony  of  my  verse. 

Ridentur  mala  qui  componunt  carmina;  verum 
Gaudent  scribentes  et  se  venerantur,  et  ultro, 
Si  taceas,  laudant  quidquid  scripsere  beati.1 

HORACE,  Epistles. 

Bad  poets  ever  are  a  standing  jest: 
But  they  rejoice,  and,  in  their  folly  blest, 
Admire  themselves;   nay,  though  you  silent  sit, 
They  bless  themselves  in  wonder  at  their  wit. 

Ep.  II.  2.  106. 

1  The  author  should  have  full  credit  for  this  unex- 
pected modesty.  Taken  with  his  destructive  injunction 
in  the  Errata,  one  can  fancy  him  conscious  of  falling  short 
of  eternity  when  it  came  to  verse.  "  Dele,"  he  says,  "  the 
Elegy ;  because  neither  gods  nor  men  nor  the  stall  of  the 
bookseller  can  tolerate  mediocrity  in  poetry."  — Ed. 

27 


The  old  housekeeper,  the  very  type  of  dame 
Leonarda  in  Gil  Bias,  was  the  first  among  the 
passengers  that  began  to  hold  up  her  head ;  and 
the  fourth  day  of  our  voyage  she  murdered  an  old 
hen  to  regale  a  poor  sick  gentleman,  who  thought 
he  could  relish  some  chicken  broth.  We  had 
scarcely  been  out  a  week,  when  we  experienced 
a  gale  of  wind  that  was  not  less  disastrous  than 
tremendous.  A  sea,  which  broke  over  the  quarter, 
washed  a  hencoop  from  its  lashing,  and  drowned 
nearly  three  dozen  of  fowls.  But  it  is  an  ill  wind 
that  blows  nobody  any  good.  The  sailors  made 
the  fowls  into  an  huge  sea-pye  of  three  decks, 
which  they  called  the  United  States  Man  of  War, 
and  fed  on  it  eagerly. 

There  was  a  carter  in  the  vessel,  who  came  on 
board  to  work  his  passage ;  but  he  did  very  little 
work.  Whenever  a  porpoise  or  even  a  gull  was 
visible,  he  considered  it  the  presage  of  a  storm, 
and  became  himself  invisible  till  it  was  over.  A 
report  being  circulated  that  the  rats  had  left  the 
vessel  when  in  harbour,  coster  Pearman  con- 
cluded that  they  had  done  it  by  instinct ;  and,  as 
an  opinion  prevails  among  sailors  that  a  ship,  on 
such  an  event,  never  gets  safe  to  her  port  of  desti- 

28 


nation,  the  booby  gave  himself  up  for  lost.  But 
hearing  one  night  a  rat  scratch  against  the  ves- 
sel's side,  he  ran  upon  deck  in  his  shirt  to  proclaim 
it  to  the  sailors,  calling  out  with  a  joyful  tone  of 
voice,  "Whoa!  hoa!  hoa!  a  rat!  a  rat!" 

The  Two  Brothers  was  a  miserably  sailing  tub, 
and  her  passage  a  most  tedious  one.  Head  winds 
constantly  prevailed,  and  scarcely  a  week  elapsed 
without  our  lying-to  more  than  once.  To  scud 
her  was  impracticable,  as  she  would  not  steer 
small,  and  several  times  the  captain  thought  she 
was  going  to  founder.  Her  cargo,  which  con- 
sisted of  millstones  and  old  iron,  made  her  strain 
so  with  rolling,  that  incessant  pumping  could 
hardly  keep  her  free.  She  seemed  to  be  fitted  out 
by  the  parish;  there  was  not  a  rope  on  board 
strong  enough  to  hang  a  cat  with.  She  had  only 
one  suit  of  sails,  not  a  single  spar,  and  her  cord- 
age was  old.  If  a  sail  was  split  by  the  wind,  there 
was  no  other  alternative  but  to  mend  it;  and 
when,  after  being  out  six  weeks,  we  had  sprung 
our  foretopmast,  we  were  compelled  to  reef  it. 
The  same  day,  I  remember,  we  fell  in  with  a 
schooner  from  New  York,  which  we  spoke.  It 
was  on  the  i8th  of  February.  She  was  bound  to 

29 


St.  Sebastian.  The  seamen  being  employed,  I  vol- 
unteered my  services  to  pull  an  oar  on  board  her, 
which  were  readily  accepted.  Her  captain  re- 
ceived us  politely,  and  regaled  us  with  some  cyder. 
She  had  left  port  only  a  fortnight ;  but  it  took  the 
ill-fated  Two  Brothers  a  month  to  get  thither. 
We  parted  with  regret.  The  captain  of  her  was 
of  a  social,  friendly  disposition.  As  to  our  own 
skipper,  he  was  passionately  fond  of  visiting  every 
vessel  that  he  saw  on  the  passage.  If  an  old  salt 
fish  schooner  hove  in  sight,  he  clamoured  for  his 
boarding-boots,  and  swore  he  would  go  to  her  if 
it  were  only  to  obtain  a  pint  of  molasses.  Once, 
having  hailed  a  vessel,  he  was  justly  rebuked.  He 
told  ilie  captain  of  her  he  would  hoist  out  his  boat 
and  go  to  see  him;  but  the  man  not  approving, 
I  suppose,  his  physiognomy,  hauled  aft  his  sheets 
and  bore  round  up  before  the  wind.  The  skipper 
had  contracted  these  habits  during  the  American 
war,  when  he  commanded  a  small  privateer ;  and 
he  could  not  in  his  old  age  reclaim  the  foibles  of 
his  youth. 

As  we  increased  our  longitude,  the  priest,  in 
examining  his  barrels  of  white  biscuit,  found  one 
of  them  emptied  by  other  hands  than  his  own. 

30 


Suspicion  fell  on  a  sailor,  whom  he  one  day  ac- 
cused before  the  passengers,  as  he  was  standing 
at  the  helm.  "  Did  you  not  steal  my  biscuit, 
sirrah !  "  said  the  parson.  "  I  did,  sir,"  answered 
the  fellow.  "And  what,  pray,  can  you  say  in  de- 
fence of  yourself?"  "Why,  sir,  I  can  say  —  that 
when  I  crossed  the  line,  Neptune  made  me  swear 
that  I  would  never  eat  brown  bread  when  I  could 
get  white;  and  your  barrel  of  white  stood  next 
my  barrel  of  brown."  This  reply  of  the  sailor  was 
so  happy  and  unexpected,  that  to  remain  grave 
exceeded  all  powers  of  face.  The  roar  of  the  sea 
was  lost  in  the  combined  laughter  that  arose  from 
the  captain,  passengers,  and  ship's  company. 
Farmer  Curtis,  whom  the  tythes  exacted  from 
him  by  the  parson  of  the  parish  had  nearly  ruined, 
now  revenged  himself  on  the  cloth  by  a  peal  of 
laughter  that  shook  the  ship  from  stem  to  stern; 
not  even  the  priest  could  refrain  from  a  smile; 
though,  perhaps,  it  was  rather  a  sardonic  grin; 
a  distortion  of  the  countenance,  without  any  glad- 
ness of  heart. 

On  the  8th  of  March,  we  saw  the  Isles  of  Sile,1 
and  three  days  after  weathered  the  breakers  of 
1  Sile  =  Shoals? 


Nantucket;  from  whence,  coasting  to  the  south- 
ward, we  made  Long  Island,  and  ran  up  to  Sandy 
Hook.  The  wind  subsiding,  we  let  go  our  anchor, 
and  the  next  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  I  accom- 
panied the  captain  and  two  of  the  cabin  passen- 
gers on  shore.  It  was  Sunday,  March  i8th. 

On  the  parched  spot,  very  properly  called  Sandy 
Hook,  we  found  only  one  human  habitation, 
which  was  a  public  house.  The  family  consisted 
of  an  old  woman,  wife  to  the  landlord,  two  young 
girls  of  homely  appearance,  a  negro  man  and  boy. 
While  breakfast  was  preparing,  I  ascended,  with 
my  companions,  the  lighthouse,  which  stood  on 
the  point  of  the  Hook.  It  was  lofty,  and  well  fur- 
nished with  lamps.  On  viewing  the  land  round 
the  dwelling  of  our  host,  I  could  not  help  thinking 
that  he  might  justly  exclaim  with  Selkirk: 

I  'm  monarch  of  all  I  survey, 

My  right  there  is  none  to  dispute, 

From  the  centre  all  round  to  the  sea, 
I  am  lord  of  the  fowl  and  the  brute. 

[COWPER.] 


CHAPTER   I 

UPON  my  landing  at  New  York,  my  first  care  was 
to  deliver  a  letter  of  recommendation,  which  I  had 
been  favoured  with  by  a  friend,  to  a  merchant  in 
the  city;  together  with  a  volume  of  Travels  from 
Boston  to  Philadelphia,  which  he  had  recently 
published.  But  I  cannot  say  that  I  was  received 
with  the  urbanity  I  had  anticipated.  Neither  my 
friend's  letter  nor  his  book  could  soften  the  fea- 
tures of  the  stern  American ;  and  were  the  world 
to  read  the  volume  with  as  little  interest  as  he,  it 
would  soon  be  consigned  to  the  peaceful  shelf. 

I  was  now  to  become  the  architect  of  my  own 
fortune.  Though  on  a  kindred  shore,  I  had  not 
even  an  acquaintance  to  whom  I  could  communi- 
cate my  projects;  the  letter  had  failed  me  that 
was  to  decide  my  fortune  at  one  blow,  and  I  found 
myself  solitary  and  sad  among  the  crowds  of  a 
gay  city.  But  I  was  not  long  depressed  by  melan- 
choly reflections  over  my  condition;  for  I  found 

33 


a  friend  in  a  man,  who,  having  himself  been  un- 
fortunate, could  feel  for  another  in  adversity.  A 
concurrence  of  circumstances  had  brought  me 
into  the  company  of  Mr.  Caritat,1  a  bookseller, 
who,  being  made  acquainted  with  my  situation, 
addressed  me  with  that  warmth  which  discovers 
a  desire  to  be  useful  rather  than  a  wish  to  gratify 
curiosity.  He  inquired  into  my  projects.  I  told 
him  that  my  scheme  was  to  get  into  some  family 
as  a  private  tutor.  A  private  tutor!  said  he. 
Alas !  the  labour  of  Sisyphus  in  hell  is  not  equal 
to  that  of  a  private  tutor  in  America !  Why  your 
project  puts  me  in  mind  of  young  Mr.  Primrose. 
And  your  exclamations,  said  I,  remind  me  of  his 
cousin  in  London.  Just  enough,  rejoined  Mr. 
Caritat ;  and  let  me  examine  you  a  little  after  the 
manner  of  his  cousin. 

"  Do  you  write  a  good  hand,  and  understand 

1  Caritat,  H.  "  An  author  was  a  scarce  article  in  those 
days,  about  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century ;  the 
returns  for  literary  labour  must  have  been  small.  Noah 
Webster  was  unquestionably  the  most  successful  of  the 
tribe,  and  in  his  wake  followed  the  geographer  Morse. 
The  city  library  and  the  circulating  library  of  Caritat 
constituted  pretty  much  all  the  establishments  of  that 
order  we  possessed."  Francis:  Old  New  York,  p.  351. 

34 


all  the  intricacies  of  calculation?  No.  Then  you 
will  not  do  for  a  private  tutor.  It  is  not  your 
Latin  and  Greek,  but  your  handwriting  and 
cyphering,  that  will  decide  your  character.  Pen- 
manship and  the  figures  of  arithmetic  will  recom- 
mend you  more  than  logic  and  the  figures  of  rhet- 
oric. Can  you  passively  submit  to  be  called 
schoolmaster  by  the  children,  and  coolmossa  by 
the  negroes?  No.  Then  you  will  not  do  for  a 
private  tutor.  Can  you  comply  with  the  humility 
of  giving  only  one  rap  at  the  door  that  the  family 
may  distinguish  it  is  the  private  tutor;  and  can 
you  wait  half  an  hour  with  good  humour  on  the 
steps,  till  the  footman  or  housemaid  condescends 
to  open  the  door  ?  No.  Then  you  will  not  do  for 
a  private  tutor.  Can  you  maintain  a  profound 
silence  in  company  to  denote  your  inferiority;  and 
can  you  endure  to  be  helped  always  the  last  at 
table,  aye  even  after  the  clerk  of  the  counting- 
house?  No.  Then  you  will  not  do  for  a  private 
tutor.  Can  you  hold  your  eyes  with  your  hands, 
and  cry  Amen !  when  grace  is  said ;  and  can  you 
carry  the  children's  Bibles  and  prayer-books  to 
church  twice  every  Sunday  ?  No.  Then  you  will 
not  do  for  a  private  tutor.  Can  you  rise  with  the 

35 


sun,  and  teach  till  breakfast ;  swallow  your  break- 
fast, and  teach  till  dinner;  devour  your  dinner, 
and  teach  till  tea-time ;  and  from  tea-time  to  bed- 
time sink  into  insignificance  in  the  parlour?  No. 
Then  you  will  not  do  for  a  private  tutor.  Do  you 
expect  good  wages?  Yes.  Then  you  will  never 
do  for  a  private  tutor.  No,  sir,  the  place  of  pri- 
vate tutor  is  the  last  I  would  recommend  you ;  for, 
as  Pompey,  when  he  entered  a  tyrant's  dominions, 
quoted  a  verse  from  Euripides  that  signified  his 
liberty  was  gone,  so  a  man  of  letters,  when  he 
undertakes  the  tuition  of  a  family  in  America, 
may  exclaim  he  has  lost  his  independence. 

'  Though  not  a  countryman  of  yours,"  contin- 
ued Mr.  Caritat,  "  I  am  from  the  same  division  of 
the  globe ;  for  I  was  born  and  educated  in  France. 
I  should  be  happy  to  serve  you,  but  I  have  not  the 
hypocrisy  to  pretend  that  my  offers  of  service  are 
disinterested.  Interest  blends  itself  with  all  hu- 
man actions,  and  you,  sir,  have  it  in  your  power 
to  be  useful  to  me.  I  know  you  are  skilled  in 
French,  because  I  have  conversed  with  you  in  that 
language;  of  your  own  idiom  you  also  discover 
an  intimate  acquaintance.  Vous  etes  done  mon 
homme.  I  have  just  imported  Buonaparte's  Cam- 

36 


paign  in  Italy,1  from  Bordeaux,  and  the  people 
are  eager  for  a  translation.  Will  you  undertake 
the  task?  Will  you  translate  the  work  for  two 
hundred  dollars?  This  is  not  the  land  of  litera- 
ture; booksellers  in  this  country  are  not  the  pa- 
trons of  authors,  and  therefore  the  remunerations 
for  literary  labour  are  not  munificent.  But  the 
notoriety  of  Buonaparte  will  sell  the  work;  and 
the  translation  make  your  name  known  beyond 
the  mountains  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  In  a  word,  if 
you  will  translate  the  volume,  I  will  pay  you  two 
hundred  dollars." 

Less  declamation  would  have  made  me  under- 
take the  translation.  I  could  hardly  conceal  my 
transports ;  and  hugging  the  volume  to  my  breast 
I  danced  home  to  my  lodgings. 

1  Pommereul,  Francois  Rene  Jean  de.  Campaign  of 
Gen.  Buonaparte  in  Italy,  during  the  fourth  and  fifth 
years  of  the  French  Republic,  1796-97.  N.  Y.,  1798.  8vo. 

Pope  and  Anne  Radcliffe  and  Monk  Lewis  might  be 
found  on  the  stalls,  with  Buonaparte's  Campaign  in  Italy, 
a  work  filled  with  the  martial  achievements  of  the  great 
soldier,  and  dedicated  to  Colonel  Burr,  by  the  translator 
John  Davis,  who  affirmed  that  the  exploits  of  Alexander 
the  Great  were  the  marches  of  a  mere  holiday  captain  com- 
pared with  the  campaigns  of  the  French  general.  Fran- 
cis :  Old  New  York,  p.  345. 

37 


I  lodged  with  a  young  man,  who  called  himself 
a  physician,  in  Ferry-street,  a  melancholy  alley 
impervious  to  the  sun.  Doctor  de  Bow,  however, 
in  huge  gilt  letters,  adorned  the  entrance  of  the 
house : 

And  in  his  needy  shop  a  tortoise  hung, 

An  alligator  stuff'd,  and  other  skins 

Of  ill-shap'd  fishes;   and  about  his  shelves 

A  beggarly  account  of  empty  boxes, 

Green  earthen  pots,  bladders,  and  musty  seeds, 

Remnants  of  packthread  and  old  cakes  of  roses, 

Were  thinly  scatter'd  to  make  up  a  shew. 

[SHAKESPEARE.] 

Of  the  medical  skill  of  the  doctor  I  cannot  pretend 
to  judge;  but  he  had  little  or  no  practice  in  his 
profession,  notwithstanding  he  dressed  in  black, 
maintained  a  profound  gravity,  and  wore  green 
spectacles  on  his  nose. 

While  the  doctor  was  reading  the  Life  of  Don 
Quixote,  I  was  to  be  seen  toiling  at  my  transla- 
tion, like  Cruden  at  his  Concordance.  The  orig- 
inal was  an  octavo  of  four  hundred  pages,  and 
every  time  I  opened  the  volume  it  seemed  to  in- 
crease in  bulk;  but  the  golden  dream  of  reputa- 
tion fortified  my  diligence,  and  I  corrected  the 
proof-sheets  with  lively  sensibility.  Emolument 

38 


and  an  avidity  of  reputation  are  two  powerful  in- 
centives to  literary  industry;  and  I  prosecuted 
my  translation  with  so  much  diligence,  that  on  the 
fourth  of  June  it  was  ushered  into  the  literary 
world  amidst  the  acclamations  of  the  Democrats, 
and  the  revilings  of  the  Federalists.  This  was  to 
me  extraordinary ;  for  I  had  professed  myself  of 
neither  party,  but  declared  my  intention  never  to 
meddle  with  the  politics  of  a  country  in  which  I 
had  neither  a  fixed  dwelling  nor  an  acre  of  land. 

About  this  period,  my  friend  the  doctor  relin- 
quished his  house,  and  rented  a  little  medicinal 
shop  of  a  Major  Howe,  who  was  agreeably  sit- 
uated in  Cherry-street.  As  the  major  took 
boarders,  I  accompanied  the  doctor  to  his  house, 
determined  to  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry  over  my 
two  hundred  dollars.  With  some  of  the  well- 
stamped  coin  I  purchased  a  few  dozen  of  Madeira, 
and  when  the  noontide  heat  had  abated  I  quaffed 
the  delicious  liquor  with  the  major  and  the  doctor 
under  a  tree  in  the  garden. 

Major  Howe,  after  carrying  arms  through  the 
Revolutionary  War,  instead  of  reposing  upon  the 
laurels  he  had  acquired,  was  compelled  to  open  a 
boarding-house  in  New  York,  for  the  mainte- 

39 


nance  of  his  wife  and  children.  He  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Cincinnati,  and  not  a  little  proud  of  his 
eagle.  But  I  thought  the  motto  to  his  badge  of 
Omnia  reliquit  servare  rempublicam,  was  not 
very  appropriate;  for  it  is  notorious  that  few 
Americans  had  much  to  leave  when  they  accepted 
commissions  in  the  army.  Victor  ad  aratrum 
redit  would  have  been  better. 

In  principles,  my  military  friend  was  avowedly 
a  deist,  and,  by  tracing  the  effect  to  the  cause,  I 
shall  expose  the  pernicious  tendency  of  a  book 
which  is  read  with  avidity.  The  major  was  once 
commanding  officer  of  the  fortress  at  West  Point, 
and  by  accident  borrowed  of  a  subaltern  the  his- 
tory of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire. 
He  read  the  work  systematically,  and  a  diligent 
perusal  of  that  part  which  relates  to  the  progress 
of  religion,  caused  him  to  become  a  sceptic,  and 
reject  all  belief  in  revelation.  Before  this  period 
the  major  was  a  constant  attendant  on  the  Estab- 
lished Church,  but  he  now  enlisted  himself  under 
the  banners  of  the  infidel  Palmer,  who  delivers 
lectures  on  deism  at  New  York,  and  is  securing 
for  himself  and  followers  considerable  grants  of 
land  in  hell. 

40 


My  translation  introduced  me  to  the  acquaint- 
ance of  some  distinguished  characters  in  New 
York,  and  among  others  that  caressed  me  was  the 
celebrated  Colonel  Burr,  who  was,  in  the  late  elec- 
tion, chosen  for  the  office  of  Vice-President  of  the 
United  States.  The  letters  interspersed  through 
this  narrative  will  shew  my  intimacy  with  Mr. 
Burr,  whom  I  have  seen  in  his  social  hour;  and 
of  whose  political  character  I  am  perhaps  enabled 
to  give  the  prominent  features.  The  slave  of  no 
party,  and  unbiassed  by  personal  affections,  my 
portrait  shall  be  free  as  it  is  unprejudiced. 

To  a  genius  of  singular  perspicacity  Mr.  Burr 
joins  the  most  bland  and  conciliating  manners. 
With  a  versatility  of  powers,  of  which,  perhaps, 
America  furnishes  no  other  example,  he  is  capa- 
ble of  yielding  an  undivided  attention  to  a  single 
object  of  pursuit.  Hence  we  find  him  at  the  close 
of  the  Revolutionary  War,  in  which  he  took  a 
very  honourable  part,  and  in  the  fatigues  of  which 
he  bore  no  common  share,  practising  the  law  with 
unrivalled  brilliancy  and  success.  Indeed  his  dis- 
tinguished abilities  attracted  so  decided  a  leaning 
of  the  judges  in  his  favour,  a  deference  for  his 
opinions  so  strongly  marked,  as  to  excite  in  no 

41 


small  degree  the  jealousy  of  the  bar.  So  strong 
was  the  impression  made  by  the  general  respect 
for  his  opinions,  that  exclamations  of  despair 
were  frequently  heard  to  escape  the  lips  of  the 
counsel  whose  fortune  it  was  to  be  opposed  by  the 
eloquence  of  Mr.  Burr.  I  am  aware  that  this  lan- 
guage wears  the  colour  of  panegyric;  but  the 
recollections  which  the  facts  must  excite  in  the 
breasts  of  his  candid  rivals,  will  corroborate  its 
accuracy. 

For  a  short  period  Mr.  Burr  acted  as  Attorney- 
General  to  the  State;  but  his  professional  repu- 
tation, already  at  the  acme  of  splendour,  could 
derive  no  new  lustre  from  the  office.  It  however 
should  be  remembered,  that,  in  State  prosecu- 
tions, a  disposition  to  aggravate  the  enormities 
of  the  accused  was  never  attributed  to  him.  At 
length  Mr.  Burr  was  removed  by  the  Legislature 
of  the  State  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States. 
The  deliberations  of  that  body  being  conducted 
in  secret,  the  public  possessed  but  slender  means 
of  knowing  and  appreciating  the  merits  of  indi- 
vidual members.  But  it  is  certain,  from  the  lead 
he  took  in  some  of  its  most  important  transac- 
tions, and  from  the  deference  shown  his  opinions 

42 


by  his  senatorial  colleagues,  that  the  character 
for  ability  which  he  had  previously  acquired,  must 
have  been  there  well  sustained.  It  was,  indeed, 
universally  acknowledged  that  no  other  State  was 
so  respectably  represented  as  the  State  of  New 
York,  in  the  combined  talents  of  Mr.  Burr  and 
Mr.  King.  His  time  of  service  expiring,  Mr. 
Burr  again  returned  to  the  exercise  of  his  pro- 
fession with  a  facility  which  would  induce  a 
belief  that  his  legal  pursuits  had  never  been 
interrupted. 

Such  are  the  outlines  of  the  character  of  the 
man  who,  cultivating  literature  himself,  loved  to 
encourage  it  in  others;  and  who,  with  a  conde- 
scension little  known  to  patrons,  sought  out  my 
obscure  lodgings  in  a  populous  city,  and  invited 
me  to  his  house.  I  found  Mr.  Burr  at  breakfast, 
reading  my  translation  over  his  coffee.  He  re- 
ceived me  with  that  urbanity  which,  while  it  pre- 
cludes familiarity,  banishes  restraint;  and  dis- 
covered, by  his  conversation,  that  he  was  not  less 
skilled  in  elegant  literature  than  in  the  science  of 
graciousness  and  attraction.  Mr.  Burr  intro- 
duced me  to  his  daughter,  whom  he  has  educated 
with  uncommon  care;  for  she  is  elegant  without 

43 


ostentation,  and  learned  without  pedantry.  At 
the  time  that  she  dances  with  more  grace  than 
any  young  lady  of  New  York,  Miss  Theodosia 
Burr  speaks  French  and  Italian  with  facility,  is 
perfectly  conversant  with  the  writers  of  the  Au- 
gustan age,  and  not  unacquainted  with  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Father  of  Poetry.  Martel,  a  French- 
man, has  dedicated  a  volume  of  his  productions 
to  Miss  Burr,  with  the  Horatian  epithet  of 
"  dulce  decus" 

Fortune  had  now  opened  to  me  les  entrees  of 
the  house  of  Mr.  Burr,  to  whose  table  and  library 
I  had  the  most  unrestrained  access.  But  Mr.  Burr 
did  not  stop  here:  he  proposed  to  me  the  study 
of  the  law,  which  I  imprudently  declined,  and 
thus  neglected  to  take  that  flood  in  the  tide  of  my 
affairs  which  led  immediately  to  fortune.  A  stu- 
dent of  the  law  could  not  have  formed  himself  on 
a  better  model  than  Mr.  Burr;  for  at  the  same 
time  that  he  was  perhaps  the  most  skilled  of  any 
man  in  the  practice,  he  was  also  the  most  elo- 
quent: Tov  KCU  airb  yXoicroTjs  /xcXtros  yXvKuitv  peev 


The  favourable  reception  given  to  the  Cam- 
paign in  Italy,  of  which  the  whole  impression  was 

44 


soon  diffused  through  the  different  States  of  the 
Union,  animated  Caritat  with  courage  for  an- 
other publication ;  and  few  men  knew  better  how 
to  gratify  present  curiosity  by  directing  his  atten- 
tion to  temporary  subjects.  In  the  preceding  win- 
ter an  occurrence  had  happened  of  which  the  pub- 
lic had  not  abated  their  eagerness  to  know  the 
particulars.  A  German  by  the  name  of  Ferdi- 
nand Lowenstoff  had  become  enamoured  of  a 
young  girl  named  Elizabeth  Falkenham,  a  native 
of  New  York.  Ferdinand  was  forty,  but  Eliza- 
beth had  scarcely  seen  sixteen  summers.  Ferdi- 
nand, notwithstanding  the  disparity  of  their 
years,  found  means  to  win  the  affections  of  Eliza- 
beth, who  consented  to  marry  him;  but  it  was 
judged  expedient  to  defer  their  marriage  till  the 
return  of  Elizabeth's  brother-in-law,  from  Ger- 
many, who  had  left  his  child  under  her  care.  In 
the  meantime  love  prevailed  over  prudence,  and 
the  lover  unloosed  the  virgin  zone  of  his  yielding 
fair.  At  length  the  brother  returned  from  Ger- 
many, but  would  not  consent  to  the  marriage; 
and,  to  release  himself  from  the  importunities  of 
Ferdinand,  confined  his  sister-in-law  to  her  cham- 
ber. The  indignation  of  the  lover  was  inflamed, 

45 


and  to  banish  from  his  mind  an  object  whom  he 
could  not  obtain,  he  married  a  French  lady  from 
Guadaloupe,  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  her 
person,  and  the  vivacity  of  her  conversation.  But 
the  charms  of  a  newer  object,  however  lovely  and 
eloquent,  could  not  obliterate  the  impression 
which  Elizabeth  had  made:  he  pined  for  her  in 
secret,  and  became  a  victim  to  melancholy.  In 
this  harassed  state  of  mind  Ferdinand  continued 
some  months,  when  a  letter  was  privately  deliv- 
ered him,  in  the  superscription  of  which  he  recog- 
nized the  handwriting  of  Elizabeth.  It  was  short, 
but  emphatical :  /  am  pregnant,  and  resolved  on 
death!  Ferdinand,  far  from  discouraging,  for- 
tified Elizabeth  in  her  resolution,  by  professing 
an  earnest  desire  himself  to  share  her  fate,  and 
seek  an  oblivion  also  of  his  own  woes  in  a  volun- 
tary death.  The  reply  to  the  letter  in  which  Fer- 
dinand desires  to  die  with  this  unhappy  girl,  is 
an  injunction  to  break  without  delay  his  union 
with  visible  nature;  to  rush  before  his  Maker 
"  with  all  his  imperfections  on  his  head."  It  goes 
further;  it  proposes  to  add  the  crime  of  murder 
to  that  of  suicide : 

"  But  why  recall  your  resolution  because  of  the 

46 


child  of  my  womb?  Let  it  not  see  the  light  of  a 
world  that  has  nothing  but  misery  for  its  portion; 
come  to  me  this  night!  Bring  with  thee  poison! 
Bring  with  thee  pistols!  And  when  the  clock 
strikes  twelve  we  '11  both  become  immortal ! " 

From  this  it  is  plain  that  Ferdinand  was  at  first 
held  in  suspense  between  contrary  impulses ;  but 
his  mind  was  not  long  diverted  from  its  purpose, 
for,  contriving  an  interview  with  Elizabeth  the 
same  night,  he  first  shot  her  with  a  pistol,  and 
afterwards  himself.  The  fatal  event  took  place 
at  a  house  in  the  Bowery,  where  the  lovers  were 
found  weltering  in  their  blood,  and  letters  ex- 
plaining the  motive  of  their  rash  conduct  were 
placed  on  the  table.  Such  deliberate  suicide  was 
perhaps,  unexampled,  and  the  letters  that  had 
passed  between  the  unhappy  pair  I  dilated  into  a 
volume,  which  Caritat  published  to  the  emolu- 
ment of  us  both,  and,  I  hope,  without  injury  to  the 
world. 

My  occupations  at  New  York,  however  agree- 
able, did  not  repress  my  desire  to  explore  the 
continent  before  me;  and  I  thought  it  best  to 
travel  while  I  had  some  crowns  left  in  my  purse. 
I  felt  regret  at  the  thought  of  separating  from 

47 


the  doctor,  whom  I  was  attached  to  from  habit; 
but  the  doctor  soon  relieved  me  by  saying,  he 
would  accompany  me  whithersoever  I  went ;  that 
no  man  loved  travelling  better  than  he,  and  that 
he  would  convert  his  medicines  into  money  to 
defray  his  expenses  on  the  road. 

"  But  tell  me,"  said  the  doctor,  "  are  you  fond 
of  walking?  "  I  assured  him  no  person  could 
be  more  so.  "  Then,"  resumed  he,  "  let  us  each 
provide  ourselves  with  a  good  cudgel,  and  begin 
our  journey  on  foot.  I  will  put  a  case  of  instru- 
ments into  my  pocket,  and  you  can  slip  into  yours 
the  Campaign  of  Buonaparte  in  Italy." 

"  But  whither  do  you  propose  to  go ;  and 
what,  I  beseech  you,  is  the  object  of  your  trav- 
elling?" 

"To  see  the  world,  assuredly,  to  eat,  drink, 
and  laugh  away  care  on  the  road." 

"  How  doctor,  would  you  approve  of  a  walk  to 
Philadelphia?" 

"  I  should  like  it  of  all  things.  In  our  way  to 
it  we  should  go  through  the  place  of  my  birth  — 
you  have  heard,  I  guess,  of  Hackinsack  —  and  at 
Philadelphia  I  could  get  somebody  to  introduce 
me  to  the  great  Doctor  Rush.  All  we  have  to  do 

48 


is  to  send  on  our  trunks  in  the  coach,  and  trudge 
after  them  on  foot." 

Our  resolution  was  no  sooner  taken  than  exe- 
cuted. The  doctor  got  an  apothecary,  who  lived 
opposite,  to  purchase  what  few  drugs  were  con- 
tained in  his  painted  drawers;  and,  having  dis- 
patched our  trunks  forward  by  the  coach,  we 
began  our  journey  to  Philadelphia.  Having 
crossed  the  Hudson,  which  separates  York  Island 
from  the  shore  of  the  Jerseys,  we  were  landed  at 
a  tavern 1  delightfully  situated  on  the  bank  of  the 
river. 

It  was  our  original  design  to  have  gone  through 
Hackinsack,  a  little  village  that  claimed  the 
honour  of  my  companion's  nativity;  but  it  was 
getting  late;  the  road  to  it  was  circuitous,  and 
we  wished  much  that  night  to  travel  to  Elizabeth 
Town.  The  doctor  consoled  himself  for  not  vis- 
iting his  family  by  observing  that  no  man  was  a 
prophet  at  home.  We  did  not  stop  long  at  New- 
ark,2 but  prosecuted  our  walk,  after  taking  shelter 

1  Every  public-house  in  the  United  States,  however 
contemptible,  is  dignified  by  the  name  of  tavern. 

2  The  houses  at  Newark  are  generally  shaded  by  clusters 
of  trees.    One  of  our  modern  tourists  would  devote  prob- 
ably a  dozen  pages  to  the  description  of  Newark,  which 

49 


from  a  shower  of  rain  in  one  of  its  sylvan  habita- 
tions. The  sun,  which  had  been  obscured,  again 
gladdened  the  plains;  and  the  birds  which  had 
ceased  awhile  singing,  again  renewed  their 
harmony.  We  reached  Elizabeth  Town  a  little 
while  after  the  stage-coach.  My  companion  being 
somewhat  fatigued,  retired  early  to  bed;  but  I 
devoted  a  great  part  of  the  night  to  the  refined 
pleasures  of  reading  and  reflection.  When  I 
went  to  bed  there  was  little  sleep  to  be  obtained; 
for  a  huge  mastiff  in  the  yard,  notwithstanding 
the  doctor  put  his  head  out  of  the  window  and 
vociferated  to  him  repeatedly,  did  not  remit  bark- 
ing the  whole  of  the  night.  We  therefore  rose 
without  being  called,  and  pursued  our  journey  to 
Prince-town,  a  place  more  famous  for  its  college 
than  its  learning.  The  road  from  Prince-town  to 
Trenton  offers  little  matter  for  speculation.  I 

is  famed  for  the  richest  cider,  and  the  largest  cobbler's 
stall  in  the  United  States  of  America.  It  supplies  also  an 
old  house  on  a  hill,  which,  unworthy  of  repair,  is  moulder- 
ing to  dust ;  but  which  has  enough  of  the  walls  remaining 
to  furnish  an  English  tourist  with  an  admirable  plate. 
To  such  tourists  I  consign  Newark,  and  other  places  on 
the  road,  which  the  traveller  beholds  and  dismisses  from 
his  mind  with  frigid  indifference. 

50 


know  that  in  some  places  there  were  battles 
fought  between  the  British  and  their  revolted  col- 
onists; but  the  recollection  of  it  tends  to  no  use, 
and,  I  am  sure,  it  cannot  be  pleasing.  At  Tren- 
ton the  doctor,  who  was  afflicted  with  sore  eyes, 
declined  proceeding  any  further.  From  Trenton 
I  was  conveyed  over  the  Delaware  in  the  ferry- 
boat, with  an  elderly  man,  clad  in  the  garb  of  a 
Quaker.  His  looks  beamed  benignity,  and  his 
accents  breathed  kindness:  but,  as  the  great 
master  of  life  observes,  there  is  no  art  can  find  the 
mind's  construction  in  the  face. 

We  had  scarce  landed  on  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  river,  when  a  poor  cripple  in  a  soldier's  jacket, 
advanced  towards  the  Quaker,  holding  both  his 
crutches  in  one  hand,  and  taking  half  a  hat  from 
his  head  with  the  other :  "  Bestow  your  charity," 
cried  the  beggar,  "on  a  poor  worn-out  soldier, 
who  fought  for  your  liberty  during  a  long  war, 
and  got  wounded  by  a  Hessian  at  the  very  place 
you  have  just  left.  Refuse  not  your  charity  to  an 
old  soldier  in  distress." 

"Alas!"  exclaimed  the  Quaker,  "this  comes 
of  war.  Shame  on  our  nature.  Beasts  live  in 
concord,  men  only  disagree.  Hadst  thou  taken 


the  advice  of  Scripture,  them  wouldst  have  es- 
caped thy  wounds." 

"What,  Master,  is  that?" 

"Why,  Friend,  if  a  man  smite  thee  on  one 
cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other." 

"  And  were  you  to  take  the  advice  of  Scripture, 
you  would  not  refuse  me  your  alms." 

"What,  Friend,  is  that?" 

"  Why,  when  a  man  wants  to  borrow  of  thee, 
turn  not  thou  away." 

"  I  remember  no  such  passage." 

"  It  is  in  the  New  Testament." 

"The  text'  has  been  corrupted,"  cried  the 
Quaker,  hastening  away  through  a  field. 

"  Won't  you  give  me  a  copper  ?  "  bawled  the 
beggar,  limping  after  the  Quaker. 

"  Charity  begins  at  home,"  said  the  Quaker, 
accelerating  his  pace. 

"  The  Lord  help  thee !  "  exclaimed  the  beggar, 
halting  almost  breathless  on  his  crutch. 

I  had  walked  about  a  mile  along  the  bank  of  the 
Delaware  when  the  coach  to  Philadelphia  over- 
took me,  and,  finding  the  road  dusty,  I  complied 
with  the  invitation  of  the  driver  to  get  into  the 
vehicle.  At  Bristol  we  took  up  two  young  women, 

5* 


clad  in  the  habit  of  Quakers,  whom  I  soon,  how- 
ever, discovered  to  be  girls  of  the  town ;  and  who, 
under  pretence  of  shewing  me  a  letter,  discovered 
their  address.  A  spacious  road  conducted  us  to 
Philadelphia,  which  we  entered  at  Front-street. 
I  had  expected  to  be  charmed  with  the  animation 
of  the  American  metropolis ;  *  but  a  melancholy 
silence  prevailed  in  the  streets,  the  principal 
houses  were  abandoned,  and  none  but  French 
people  were  to  be  found  seeking  pleasure  in  society. 
The  coach  stopped  at  the  sign  of  the  Sorrel  Horse, 
in  Second-street,  where  I  heard  only  lamentations 
over  the  yellow  fever,  which  had  displayed  itself 
in  Water-street,  and  was  spreading  its  contagion. 
It  costs  no  more  to  go  to  a  good  tavern  than  a  bad 
one ;  and  I  removed  my  trunks,  which  I  found  at 
the  stage-office,  to  the  French  hotel  in  the  same 
street.  Mr.  Pecquet  received  me  with  a  bowing 
mien,  and  called  Jeannette  for  the  passe-partout 
to  shew  me  his  apartments.  He  exercised  all  his 
eloquence  to  make  me  lodge  in  his  hotel.  He  ob- 
served that  his  house  was  not  like  an  American 
house ;  that  he  did  not  in  summer  put  twelve  beds 

1  Philadelphia  in  1798  was  the  capital  of  the  United 
States. 

53 


in  one  room ;  but  that  every  lodger  had  a  room  to 
himself;  and  monsieur,  added  he  very  solemnly, 
"  Id  il  ne  sera  pas  necessaire  de  sortir  de  votre 
lit,  comme  chez  les  Americains,  pour  aller  a  la 
fenetre,  car  Jeannette  n'oublie  jamais  de  mettre 
un  pot  de  chambre  sous  le  lit." 

Monsieur  Pecquet  assured  me  his  dinners  were 
of  a  superior  kind,  and,  finding  I  was  an  English- 
man, observed  with  a  bow,  that  he  could  furnish 
me  with  the  best  porter  brewed  in  the  city  of 
Philadelphia.  Such  professions  as  these  what 
unhoused  traveller  could  resist?  I  commended 
Monsieur  Pecquet  on  his  mode  of  living,  recipro- 
cated compliments  with  him,  chose  the  chamber 
I  thought  the  coolest,  and  the  same  night  found 
myself  at  supper  with  a  dozen  French  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  who  could  not  utter  a  word  of  English, 
and  with  whom  I  drank  copious  libations  of  that 
porter  which  my  host  had  enlarged  upon  with 
such  elegance  of  declamation. 

My  first  visit  was  to  the  library.  A  bust  of 
Doctor  Franklin  is  over  the  door,  whose  head  it 
is  to  be  lamented  the  librarian  cannot  place  on  his 
own  shoulders.  Of  the  two  rooms  the  Franklinian 
Library  is  confined  to  books  in  the  English  lan- 

54 


guage,  but  the  Loganian  Library  comprehends 
every  classical  work  in  the  ancient  and  modern 
languages.  I  contemplated  with  reverence  the 
portrait  of  James  Logan,  which  graces  the  room, 

Magnum  et  venerabile  nomen. 

I  could  not  repress  my  exclamations.  As  I  am 
only  a  stranger,  said  I,  in  this  country,  I  affect  no 
enthusiasm  on  beholding  the  statues  of  her  gen- 
erals and  statesmen.  I  have  left  a  church  filled 
with  them,  on  the  shore  of  Albion  that  have  a 
prior  claim  to  such  feeling.  But  I  here  behold  the 
portrait  of  a  man  whom  I  consider  so  great  a  ben- 
efactor to  literature,  that  he  is  scarcely  less  illus- 
trious than  its  munificent  patrons  of  Italy;  his 
soul  has  certainly  been  admitted  to  the  company 
of  the  congenial  spirits  of  a  Cosmo  and  Lorenzo 
de  Medici.  The  Greek  and  Roman  authors,  for- 
gotten on  their  native  banks  of  the  Ilissus  and 
Tiber,  delight  by  the  kindness  of  a  Logan  the 
votaries  to  learning  on  those  of  the  Delaware. 

It  has  been  observed,  I  believe  by  Horace,  that 
there  have  lived  many  heroes  not  inferior  in 
prowess  to  those  of  the  Iliad,  but  that  for  want  of 
a  bard  to  sing  their  feats,  they  might  as  well  have 

55 


not  achieved  them.  But  how  many  characters 
are  now  unknown,  who,  susceptible  only  of  the 
social  energies,  deserve  to  be  remembered  more 
than  an  Agamemnon  or  an  Achilles.  What  man 
ever  rose  from  the  Iliad  with  an  accession  of 
benevolence?  but  who  would  not  be  better  for 
reading  the  life  of  a  Kyrle,  of  whom  nothing  can 
be  now  known  but  what  is  furnished  by  an  epi- 
sode in  a  poem?  Of  the  readers  of  this  volume 
there  are  few  who  have  ever  heard  mention  made 
of  James  Logan  of  Philadelphia;  a  man  whose 
benevolent  actions  aspire  far  higher  than  any 
Greek  or  Roman  fame.  James  Logan  was  born  in 
Scotland  [Ireland],  about  the  year  1674.  He  was 
one  of  the  people  called  Quakers,  and  accompa- 
nied William  Penn  in  his  last  voyage  to  Pennsyl- 
vania. For  many  years  of  his  life  he  was  em- 
ployed in  public  business,  and  rose  to  the  offices 
of  Chief  Justice  and  Governor  of  the  Province; 
but  he  felt  always  an  ardour  for  study,  and  by 
husbanding  his  leisure,  found  time  to  write  sev- 
eral treatises  in  Latin,  of  which  one,  on  the  Gen- 
eration of  Plants,  was  translated  into  English  by 
Dr.  Fothergill.  Being  declined  in  the  vale  of 
years,  Mr.  Logan  withdrew  from  the  tumult  of 

56 


public  business  to  the  solitude  of  his  country-seat, 
near  Germantown,  where  he  found  tranquillity 
among  his  books,  and  corresponded  with  the  most 
distinguished  literary  characters  of  Europe.  He 
also  made  a  version  of  Cicero's  De  Senectute, 
which  was  published  with  notes  by  the  late  Dr. 
Franklin.  Whether  Franklin  was  qualified  to 
write  annotations  on  Tully's  noble  treatise,  will 
admit  of  some  doubt;  for  the  genius  of  Franklin 
was  rather  scientific  than  classical.  Mr.  Logan 
died  in  1751,  at  the  venerable  age  of  seventy- 
seven;  leaving  his  library,  which  he  had  been 
fifty  years  collecting,  to  the  people  of  Pennsyl- 
vania ;  a  monument  of  his  ardour  for  the  promo- 
tion of  literature.1 

1  The  following  extract  from  Mr.  Logan's  will  cannot 
fail  to  interest  the  curious  in  literature. 

"  In  my  library,  which  I  have  left  to  the  city  of  Phila- 
delphia, for  the  advancement  and  facilitating  of  classical 
learning,  are  above  100  volumes  of  authors  in  folio,  all  in 
Greek,  with  mostly  their  versions.  All  the  Roman  classics 
without  exception.  All  the  whole  Greek  mathematicians, 
viz.  Archimedes,  Euclid,  Ptolemy,  both  his  Geography 
and  Almagest,  which  I  had  in  Greek  (with  Theon's  Com- 
mentary in  folio,  above  700  pages)  from  my  learned 
friend  Fabricius,  who  published  14  volumes  of  his  Biblio- 
theque  Grecque  in  quarto,  in  which,  after  he  had  finished 
his  account  of  Ptolemy,  on  my  inquiring  of  him  at  Ham- 

57 


It  was  at  his  library  that,  during  three  succes- 
sive afternoons,  I  enjoyed  that  calm  and  pure 
delight  which  books  afford.  But  on  the  fourth  I 
found  access  denied,  and  that  the  librarian  had 
fled  from  the  yellow  fever,  which  spread  conster- 
nation through  the  city.  Of  the  fever  I  may  say 
that  it  momentarily  became  more  destructive. 
Sorrow  sat  on  every  brow,  and  nothing  was  to  be 
seen  but  coffins  carried  through  the  streets  unat- 
tended by  mourners.  Indeed  it  was  not  a  time  to 
practise  modes  of  sorrow,  or  adjust  the  funeral 
rites ;  but  the  multitude  thought  only  of  escaping 
from  the  pestilence  that  wasted  at  noon-day,  and 
walked  in  darkness.  This  was  a  period  to  reflect 
on  the  vanity  of  human  life,  and  the  mutability  of 
human  affairs.  Philadelphia,  which  in  the  spring 
was  a  scene  of  mirth  and  riot,  was  in  the  summer 
converted  to  a  sepulchre  for  the  inhabitants.  The 

burgh,  in  1772,  how  I  should  find  it,  having  long  sought 
for  it  in  vain  in  England ;  he  sent  it  me  out  of  his  own 
library,  telling  me  it  was  so  scarce,  that  neither  prayers 
nor  price  could  purchase  it;  besides,  there  are  many  of 
the  most  valuable  Latin  authors,  and  a  great  number  of 
modern  mathematicians,  with  all  the  three  editions  of 
Newton,  Dr.  Wallis,  Halley,  &c. 

JAMES   LOGAN." 

58 


courts  of  law  were  shut,  and  no  subtile  lawyer 
could  obtain  a  client ;  the  door  of  the  tavern  was 
closed,  and  the  drunkard  was  without  strength 
to  lift  the  bowl  to  his  lips :  no  theatre  invited  the 
idle  to  behold  the  mimic  monarch  strut  his  hour 
upon  the  stage;  the  dice  lay  neglected  on  the 
gaming-table,  nor  did  the  dancing-room  reecho 
with  the  steps  of  the  dancer :  man  was  not  hum- 
bled! Death  was  whetting  his  arrows,  and  the 
graves  were  open.  All  jollity  was  fled.  The 
hospital-cart  moved  slowly  on  where  the  chariot 
before  had  rolled  its  rapid  wheels ;  and  the  coffin- 
makers  were  either  nailing  up  the  coffins  of  the 
dead,  or  giving  dreadful  note  of  preparation  by 
framing  others  for  the  dying,  where  lately  the  mind 
at  ease  had  poured  forth  its  tranquillity  in  songs ; 
where  the  loud  laugh  had  reverberated,  and  where 
the  animating  sound  of  music  had  stolen  on  the 
ear.  In  this  scene  of  consternation,  the  negroes 
were  the  only  people  who  could  be  prevailed  on  to 
assist  the  dying,  and  inter  those  who  were  no 
more.  Their  motive  was  obvious;  they  plun- 
dered the  dead  of  their  effects,  and  adorned  them- 
selves in  the  spoils  of  the  camp  of  the  King  of 
Terrors.  It  was  remarked  to  me  by  a  lady  of 

59 


Philadelphia,  that  the  negroes  were  never  so  well 
clad  as  after  the  yellow  fever. 

I  had  been  a  week  at  Philadelphia,  without 
hearing  any  tidings  of  my  friend  the  doctor, 
when,  walking  one  evening  past  the  Franklin's 
Head,  I  recognized  him  conversing  with  a 
stranger  in  the  front  room.  The  physician  had 
arrived  only  that  evening.  He  had  staid  six  days 
at  Trenton,  leading  a  pleasant,  convalescent  life; 
from  whence  he  had  written  me  a  letter,  which 
I  found  afterwards  at  the  post-office.  We  were 
rejoiced  to  meet  each  other,  and  the  better  to  ex- 
change minds,  I  accompanied  the  doctor  into 
Arch-street,  where,  taking  possession  of  the 
porch  of  an  abandoned  dwelling,  we  sat  convers- 
ing till  a  late  hour.  The  most  gloomy  imagina- 
tion cannot  conceive  a  scene  more  dismal  than 
the  street  before  us:  every  house  was  deserted 
by  those  who  had  strength  to  seek  a  less  baneful 
atmosphere ;  unless  where  parental  fondness  pre- 
vailed over  self-love.  Nothing  was  heard  but 
either  the  groans  of  the  dying,  the  lamentations 
of  the  survivors,  the  hammers  of  the  coffin- 
makers,  or  the  howling  of  the  domestic  animals, 
which  those  who  fled  from  the  pestilence  had  left 

60 


behind,  in  the  precipitancy  of  their  flight.  A  poor 
cat  came  to  the  porch  where  I  was  sitting  with 
the  doctor,  and  demonstrated  her  joy  by  the  ca- 
resses of  fondness.  An  old  negro  woman  was 
passing  at  the  same  moment  with  some  pepper- 
pot  *  on  her  head.  With  this  we  fed  the  cat  that 
was  nearly  reduced  to  a  skeleton ;  and  prompted  by 
a  desire  to  know  the  sentiments  of  the  old  negro 
woman,  we  asked  her  the  news.  "  God  help  us," 
cried  the  poor  creature,  "  very  bad  news.  Buckra 
die  in  heaps.  By  and  bye  nobody  live  to  buy 
pepper-pot,  and  old  black  woman  die  too."  I 
would  adduce  this  as  a  proof,  that  calamities  usu- 
ally move  us  as  they  regard  our  interest.  The 
negro  woman  lamented  the  ravages  of  the  fever 
because  it  prevented  the  sale  of  her  pepper-pot. 

Finding  all  business   suspended  at  Philadel- 
phia, and  the  atmosphere  becoming  hourly  more 
noisome,  we  judged  it  prudent  to  leave  the  city 
without  delay ;  and,  finding  a  vessel  at  the  wharfs 
ready  to  sail  for  Charleston,  in  South  Carolina, 
we  agreed  for  the  passage,  and  put  our  luggage 
on   board.     Having  taken   leave   of   Monsieur 
Pecquet,  whose  excellent  dinners  had  enhanced 
1  Tripe  seasoned  with  pepper. 
61 


him  in  the  opinion  of  the  doctor,  we  on  the  22d 
of  September,  1798,  went  on  board,  and  bade 
adieu  to  Philadelphia,  which  was  become  a 
Golgotha. 

The  vessel  having  hauled  out  into  the  stream, 
we  weighed  with  a  fair  wind,  and  shaped  our 
course  down  the  serpentine  but  beautiful  river 
of  the  Delaware.  Our  cabin  was  elegant,  and 
the  fare  delicious.  I  observed  the  doctor's  eyes 
brighten  at  the  first  dinner  we  made  on  board, 
who  expressed  to  me  a  hope  that  we  might  be  a 
month  on  the  passage,  as  he  wished  to  eat  out  the 
money  the  captain  had  charged  him.  The  first 
night  the  man  at  the  helm  fell  asleep,  and  the  tide 
hove  the  vessel  into  a  corn-field,  opposite  Wil- 
mington ;  so  that  when  we  went  upon  deck  in  the 
morning,  we  found  our  situation  quite  pastoral. 
We  floated  again  with  the  flood-tide,  and  at  noon 
let  go  our  anchor  before  Newcastle.  It  took  us 
two  days  to  clear  the  Capes.  The  banks  of  the 
Delaware  had  been  extolled  to  me  as  the  most 
beautiful  in  the  world;  but  I  thought  them  infe- 
rior to  those  of  the  Thames. 

We  were  now  at  sea,  bounding  on  the  waves 
of  the  Atlantic.     Of  our  passengers  the  most 

62 


agreeable  was  an  old  French  gentleman  from  St. 
Domingo.  Monsieur  Lartigue,  to  the  most  per- 
fect good  breeding  joined  great  knowledge  of 
mankind,  and  at  the  age  of  sixty  had  lost  none  of 
his  natural  gaiety.  It  was  impossible  to  be  de- 
jected in  the  company  of  such  a  man.  If  any  per- 
son sung  on  board,  he  would  immediately  begin 
capering;  and  when  the  rest  were  silent,  he  never 
failed  to  sing  himself. 

Nothing  very  remarkable  happened  in  our  pas- 
sage, unless  it  be  worthy  of  record  that  one  morn- 
ing the  captain  suffered  his  fears  to  get  the  better 
of  his  reason,  and  mistook  a  Virginian  sloop  for 
a  French  privateer;  and  another  day  the  mate 
having  caught  a  dolphin,  Mr.  Lartigue  exclaimed, 
//  faut  qu'il  soit  ragout.  After  a  passage  of  five 
days  we  came  to  an  anchor  in  Rebellion  Roads, 
from  which  we  could  plainly  discern  the  spires 
and  houses  of  Charleston ;  and  the  following  day 
we  stood  towards  Fort  Johnson,  which  no  vessels 
are  suffered  to  pass  without  being  examined. 
Here  the  port  physician  came  on  board,  with 
orders  for  us  to  perform  quarantine  a  fortnight, 
to  the  great  joy  of  the  doctor,  who  had  not  yet 
eaten  half  of  what  he  wished  to  eat  on  board. 

63 


Monsieur  Lartigue  had  abundantly  stocked  him- 
self with  comfitures  and  wine;  and  I  doubt  not 
but  the  doctor  still  remembers  the  poignancy 
of  his  preserved  cherries,  and  the  zest  of  his 
claret. 


64 


CHAPTER   II 

I  LANDED  at  Charleston  with  Doctor  de  Bow,  who 
had  clad  himself  in  his  black  suit,  and  though  a 
young  man,  wore  a  monstrous  pair  of  spectacles 
on  his  nose.  Adieu  jollity!  adieu  laughter!  the 
doctor  was  without  an  acquaintance  on  a  strange 
shore,  and  he  had  no  other  friend  but  his  solem- 
nity to  recommend  him.  It  was  to  no  purpose 
that  I  endeavoured  to  provoke  him  to  laughter 
by  my  remarks;  the  physician  would  not  even 
relax  his  risible  muscles  into  a  smile.  The  doctor 
was  right.  In  a  few  days  he  contrived  to  hire 
part  of  a  house  in  Union-street;  obtained  credit 
for  a  considerable  quantity  of  drugs;  and  only 
wanted  a  chariot  to  equal  the  best  physician  in 
Charleston.  The  doctor  was  in  possession  of  a 
voluble  tongue,  and  I  furnished  him  with  a  few 
Latin  phrases,  which  he  dealt  out  to  his  hearers 
with  an  air  of  profound  learning.  He  generally 
concluded  his  speeches  with  Nullius  addictus 
jurare  in  verba  magistri! 

65 


Wishing  for  some  daily  pursuit,  I  advertised 
in  one  of  the  papers  for  the  place  of  a  tutor  in  a 
respectable  family;  not  omitting  to  observe  that 
the  advertiser  was  the  translator  of  Buonaparte's 
Campaign  in  Italy.  The  editor  of  the  Gazette 
assured  me  of  an  hundred  applications ;  and  that 
early  the  next  morning  I  should  not  be  without 
some.  His  predictions  were  verified ;  for  the  fol- 
lowing day,  on  calling  at  the  office,  I  found  a  note 
left  from  a  planter  who  lived  a  mile  from  the 
town,  desiring  me  to  visit  him  that  afternoon  at 
his  house.  I  went  thither  accordingly.  Every- 
thing indicated  opulence  and  ease.  Mr.  H 

received  me  with  the  insolence  of  prosperity. 
"  You  are,"  said  he,  "  the  person  who  advertised 
for  the  place  of  tutor  in  a  respectable  family?  " 

I  answered  with  a  bow. 

"  What,  sir,  are  your  qualifications  ?  " 

"  I  am  competently  skilled,  sir,  in  the  Latin  and 
French  languages,  not  unacquainted  with  Greek, 
conversant  with  geography,  and  accustomed  to 
composition  in  my  vernacular  idiom." 

"  But  if  you  possess  all  that  there  learning, 
how  comes  it  you  could  not  get  into  some  college, 
or  school  ?  " 

66 


"Why,  sir,  it  is  found  even  in  colleges  that 
dunces  triumph,  and  men  of  letters  are  disre- 
garded by  a  general  combination  in  favour  of 
dulness." 

"  Can  you  drive *  well,  sir  ?  " 

"  Drive,  sir,  did  you  say?  I  really  do  not  com- 
prehend you." 

"  I  mean,  sir,  can  you  keep  your  scholars  in 
order?" 

"Yes,  sir,  if  they  are  left  entirely  to  my 
direction." 

"  Ah !  that  would  not  be.  Mrs.  H ,  who  is 

a  woman  of  extensive  learning  (she  lost  a  fine 
opportunity  once  of  learning  French,  and  only 
a  few  years  ago  could  write  the  best  hand  of  any 
lady  in  Charleston),  Mrs.  H would  superin- 
tend your  management  of  the  school." 

"  Mrs.  H ,  sir,  would  do  me  honour." 

"  Mrs.  H ,  sir,  is  in  the  real  sense  of  the 

word,  a  woman  of  literature;  and  her  eldest 

1  The  term  drive  requires  some  little  note  explanatory 
to  the  English  reader.  No  man  forgets  his  original  trade. 
An  overseer  on  a  plantation  who  preserves  subordination 

among  the  negroes,  is  said  to  drive  well;  and  Mr.  H 

having  once  been  an  overseer  himself,  the  phrase  very 
naturally  predominated  in  his  mind. 

67 


daughter  is  a  prodigy  for  her  age.  She  could  tell 
at  nine  years  old  whether  a  pudding  was  boiled 
enough ;  and  now,  though  only  eleven,  can  repeat 
Pope's  Ode  on  Solitude  by  heart.  Ah !  Pope  was 
a  pretty  poet;  my  wife  is  very  fond  of  Pope.  You 
have  read  him,  I  make  no  doubt,  sir.  What  is 
your  opinion  of  his  works  ?  " 

"  In  his  Rape  of  the  Lock,  sir,  he  exhibits  most 
of  the  vis  imaginandi  that  constitutes  the  poet; 
his  Essay  on  Criticism  is  scarcely  inferior  to 
Horace's  Epistle  to  the  Pisos;  his  Satires  —  " 

"  But  I  am  surprised,  sir,  you  bestow  no  praise 

on  his  Ode  on  Solitude.     Mrs.  H ,  who  is 

quite  a  critic  in  those  matters,  allows  the  Ode 
on  Solitude  to  be  his  best,  his  noblest,  his  sub- 
limest  production." 

"  Persuaded,  sir,  of  the  critical  acuteness  of 

Mrs.  H ,  it  is  not  safe  to  depart  from  her  in 

opinion ;  —  and  if  Mrs.  H affirms  the  Ode  on 

Solitude  to  be  the  sublimest  of  Mr.  Pope's  pro- 
ductions, it  would  be  rather  painful  than  pleasant 
to  undeceive  her  in  opinion." 

"  That  is  right,  sir,  I  like  to  see  young  men 
modest.  What  spelling-book  do  you  use  ?  " 

"What  spelling-book,  sir?  Indeed  —  really  — 
68 


upon  my  word,  sir,  —  any  —  oh!  Noah  Web- 
ster's, sir." 

"  Ah !  I  perceive  you  are  a  New  England  man, 
by  giving  the  preference  to  Noah  Webster." 

"Sir,  I  beg  your  pardon;  I  am  from  Old 
England." 

"  Well,  no  matter  for  that,  — but  Mrs.  H , 

who  is  an  excellent  speller,  never  makes  use  of 
any  other  but  Matthew  Carey's  spelling-book. 
It  is  a  valuable  work,  the  copyright  is  secured. 
But  here  comes  Mrs.  H herself." 

Mrs.  H now  entered,  followed  by  a  negro 

girl,  who  held  a  peacock's  feather  in  her  hand. 

Mrs.  H received  my  bow  with  a  mutilated 

curtesy,  and  throwing  herself  on  a  sofa,  called 
peremptorily  to  Prudence  to  brush  the  flies  from 
her  face.  There  was  a  striking  contrast  between 
the  dress  of  the  lady  and  her  maid ;  the  one  was 
tricked  out  in  all  the  finery  of  fashion;  while 
the  black  skin  of  the  other  peeped  through  her 
garments. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  H ,  "  this  young 

man  is  the  person  who  advertised  for  the  place 
of  tutor  in  a  respectable  family.  A  little  conver- 
sation with  him  will  enable  you  to  judge  whether 

69 


he  is  qualified  to  instruct  our  children  in  the 
branches  of  a  liberal  education." 

"  Why,  independent  of  his  literary  attainments, 
it  will  be  necessary  for  him  to  produce  certificates 
of  his  conduct.  I  am  not  easily  satisfied  in  my 
choice  of  a  tutor ;  a  body  should  be  very  cautious  in 
admitting  a  stranger  to  her  family.  This  gentle- 
man is  young,  and  young  men  are  very  frequently 
addicted  to  bad  habits.  Some  are  prone  to  late 
hours;  some  to  hard  drinking;  and  some  to  negur 
girls :  the  last  propensity  I  could  never  forgive." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  you  discharged  Mr.  Spondee, 
our  last  tutor,  for  his  intimacy  with  the  negur 
girls :  —  Prudence  had  a  little  one  by  him."  Pru- 
dence looked  reproachfully  at  her  master;  the 

child  was  in  reality  the  offspring  of  Mr.  H , 

who  fearing  the  inquiries  of  the  world  on  the  sub- 
ject, fathered  it  upon  his  last  tutor.  But  they 
must  have  been  blind  who  could  not  discover  that 

the  child  was  sprung  from  Mr.  H ;  for  it  had 

the  same  vulgar  forehead,  the  same  vacant  eye, 
and  the  same  idiot  laugh. 

"  Do,  my  dear,  examine  the  young  man  a  little 
on  literary  matters.  He  seems  to  have  read 
Pope." 

70 


"  What,  sir,  is  your  opinion  of  Mr.  Pope's  Ode 
on  Solitude?  " 

"  It  is  a  tolerable  production,  madam,  for  a 
child." 

"A  tolerable  production  for  a  child!  Mercy 
on  us !  It  is  the  most  sublimest  of  his  productions. 
But  tastes  sometimes  differ.  Have  you  read  the 
works  of  Dr.  Johnson?  Which  do  not  approve 
the  most?" 

"  Why,  madam,  if  you  allude  to  his  poems,  I 
should,  in  conformity  with  your  judgment,  give 
a  decided  preference  to  his  Epitaph  on  a  Duck,1 
written,  if  I  mistake  not,  when  he  was  four  years 
old.  It  need  scarcely  fear  competition  with 
Pope's  Ode  on  Solitude." 

At  this  moment  the  eldest  daughter  of  this 
learned  lady,  of  this  unsexed  female,  tripped  into 
the  room  on  light,  fantastic  toe.  "  Come,  my 
daughter,"  said  the  lady,  "  let  this  gentleman  hear 
you  repeat  the  Ode  on  Solitude" 

1  "  Here  lies  poor  duck 
That  Samuel  Johnson  trod  on ; 
If  it  had  Hv'd  it  had  been  good  luck, 
For  it  would  have  been  an  odd  one." 

Johnsoniana;  anecdotes  of  Samuel  Johnson. 


"  Excuse  me,  madam,"  cried  I,  taking  up  my 
hat  and  bowing. 

"  Do  hear  the  child,"  bawled  Mr.  H . 

"  I  pray  you,  sir,  to  excuse  me." 

"  It  will  not  take  the  child  ten  minutes." 

"  Ten  minutes,  madam,  are  the  sixth  part  of 
an  hour  that  will  never  return ! " 

"  Politeness  dictates  it." 

"  Excuse  me,  I  entreat  you,  sir." 

"  I  cannot  excuse  you ;  I  shall  hire  you  as 
tutor,  and  I  have  a  right  to  expect  from  you  sub- 
mission. I  may  perhaps  give  you  the  sum  of  fifty 
pounds  a  year." 

"  Don't  mention  it,  sir.  There  again  you  will 
have  the  goodness  to  excuse  me.  —  Madam,  your 
most  obedient.  —  Miss,  your  very  obsequious.  — 
Sir,  your  humble  servant."  * 

It  was  not  long  before  my  advertisement 
brought  me  other  applications.  The  principal  of 

1  It  has  been  my  object  in  this  scene  to  soften  the  con- 
dition of  private  tutors  in  America,  by  putting  up  Mr. 
H in  signum  terroris  et  memoriae  to  other  purse- 
proud  planters.  I  write  not  from  personal  pique,  but  a 
desire  to  benefit  society.  Happy  shall  I  think  myself 
should  this  page  hold  the  mirror  up  to  the  inflation  of 
pride  and  insolence  of  prosperity. 

72 


Charleston  College  honoured  me  with  a  letter, 
whom,  pursuant  to  his  desire,  I  waited  on  at  his 
house.  I  found  Mr.  Drone  in  his  study,  consult- 
ing with  great  solemnity  the  ponderous  lexicon 
of  Schrevelius.  I  could  not  but  feel  a  secret  ven- 
eration from  the  scene  before  me.  I  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  presence  of  a  man  who  was  not  less 
voluminous  than  learned;  for  no  book  under  a 
folio  ever  stood  on  his  shelf.  How  stupendous, 
thought  I,  must  be  the  erudition  of  this  professor, 
who  holds  in  sovereign  contempt,  a  volume  of 
ordinary  dimensions!  Every  animal  has  an  ali- 
ment peculiarly  suited  to  its  constitution.  The 
ox  finds  nourishment  only  from  the  earth;  and  a 
professor  cannot  derive  knowledge  from  any  vol- 
ume but  a  folio. 

Mr.  Drone  received  me  with  all  the  little  deco- 
rums of  dulness.  He,  however,  talked  learnedly. 
He  lamented  the  degeneracy  of  literature  in  Eng- 
land and  America;  discovered  that  taste  was  on 
the  decline ;  and  despaired  of  ever  beholding  the 
spirit  of  that  age  revived  when  writers  sought 
not  for  new  combinations  of  imagery,  but  were 
content  to  compile  lexicons,  and  restore  the  true 
punctuation  to  an  ancient  poet.  Mr.  Drone  asked 

73 


me  whether  I  was  conversant  with  Latin ;  and  on 
my  replying  in  the  affirmative,  he  produced  a 
Horace  in  folio,  and  desired  I  would  construe  the 
ode  of  Quern  tu,  Melpomene.  Horace  had  never 
before  assumed  so  formidable  an  aspect.  In  the 
ordinary  editions  he  had  always  looked  at  me 
placido  lumine;  but  he  now  appeared  crabbed 
and  sour,  and  I  found  his  text  completely  buried 
amidst  the  rubbish  of  annotations.  By  making 
labor  Isthmius  the  agent  to  clarabit,  the  difficulty 
of  the  inversion  vanished;  but  when  I  came  to 
analyze  the  construction  of  the  ode,  not  having 
some  rule  for  verbs  construed  at  memory  —  I 
think  it  was  the  important  one  of  mo  fit  ui,  as 
vomo  vomui  —  the  professor,  with  a  shake  of  his 
head,  which  doubtless  put  all  his  sagacity  into 
motion,  told  me  very  gravely  I  had  yet  something 
to  learn.  I  ought  to  apologize  to  my  reader  for 
detaining  him  so  long  in  the  company  of  Profes- 
sor Drone;  but  it  is  a  link  in  the  chain  of  my 
history,  however  rusty.  To  be  brief,  he  engaged 
me  as  an  assistant  to  his  sublime  college  for  three 
months ;  and  had  the  vanity  to  assert,  that  in  con- 
sequence of  it  I  should  become  fama  super  aethera 
notus. 

74 


I  was  about  to  take  leave  of  Mr.  Drone,  when 
his  principal  tutor  entered  the  room,  to  whom  he 
introduced  me.  Mr.  George  taught  the  Greek 
and  Latin  classics  at  the  college,  and  was  not  less 
distinguished  by  his  genius  than  his  erudition. 
On  surveying  my  new  acquaintance,  I  could  not 
but  think  that  he  deserved  a  better  office  than  that 
of  a  gerund-grinder.  Nature  seemed  to  have  set 
her  seal  on  him  to  give  the  world  assurance  of  a 
man.  Mr.  George  laughed  obstreperously  at  the 
pedantry  of  the  professor.  "  Peace,"  said  he,  "  to 
all  such!  Old  Duffey,  my  first  schoolmaster  in 
Roscommon,  concealed  more  learning  under  the 
coarseness  of  his  brogue  than  Drone  will  ever 
display  with  all  his  rhetoric  of  declamation.  It 
is  true  he  can  talk  of  Luitprandus,  Bertholdus, 
and  Lambertus;  but  an  acquaintance  with  these 
writers,  however  it  may  display  reading,  dis- 
covers little  judgment." 

Two  young  men,  of  similar  pursuits,  soon  be- 
come acquainted.  The  day  of  my  introduction 
to  Mr.  George  we  exchanged  thoughts  without 
restraint;  and  during  three  months  that  I 
continued  at  Charleston  we  were  inseparable 
companions. 

75 


I  know  not  whether  I  was  qualified  to  fill  the 
vacant  chair  of  instruction  at  the  college;  but 
I  remember,  that  zealous  to  acquit  myself  with 
dignity  in  my  new  office,  I  assumed  the  aspect  of 
a  pedagogue,  and  when  an  idle  boy  stared  at  me, 
I  checked  him  with  a  frown.  I,  however,  was  not 
ambitious  of  this  honour  more  than  six  weeks; 
a  space  of  time,  which,  though  it  cannot  be  long, 
may  surely  be  tedious.  The  professor  com- 
plained that  I  was  always  the  last  in  the  college ; 
and  I  replied  by  desiring  my  discharge. 

I  was  now  dismissed  from  the  college;  but 
I  was  under  no  solicitude  for  my  future  life.  A 
planter  of  the  name  of  Brisbane  had  politely  in- 
vited me  to  his  plantation,  to  partake  with  him 
and  his  neighbours  the  diversion  of  hunting 
during  the  winter;  and  another  of  the  name  of 
Drayton,  the  owner  of  immense  forests,  had  ap- 
plied to  me  to  live  in  his  family,  and  undertake 
the  tuition  of  his  children.  Of  these  proposals, 
the  first  flattered  my  love  of  ease,  and  the  other 
insured  me  an  augmentation  of  wealth.  I  was 
not  long  held  in  suspense  which  of  the  two  to 
chuse;  but  I  preferred  the  summons  of  industry 
to  the  blandishments  of  pleasure. 

76 


The  winters  of  Carolina,  however  piercing  to 
a  native,  who  during  the  summer  months  may  be 
said  to  bask  rather  than  breathe,  are  mild  to  an 
Englishman  accustomed  to  the  frosts  of  his 
island.  In  the  month  of  November  my  engage- 
ment led  me  to  Coosohatchie,1  an  insignificant 
village  about  seventy-eight  miles  from  Charles- 
ton; for  the  plantation  of  Mr.  Drayton  was  in 
the  neighbouring  woods.  The  serenity  of  the 
weather  invited  the  traveller  to  walk,  and,  at  an 
early  hour  of  the  morning,  I  departed  on  foot  from 
Charleston,  having  the  preceding  evening  taken 
leave  of  Mr.  George.  The  foot-traveller  need 
not  be  ashamed  of  his  mode  of  journeying.  To 
travel  on  foot,  is  to  travel  like  Plato  and  Pythag- 
oras; and  to  these  examples  may  be  added  the 
not  less  illustrious  ones  of  Goldsmith  and  Rous- 
seau. The  rambles  of  the  ancient  sages  are  at 
this  distance  of  time  uncertain;  but  it  is  well 
known,  that  Goldsmith  made  the  tour  of  Europe 
on  foot,  and  that  Rousseau  walked,  from  choice, 
through  a  great  part  of  Italy. 

An  agreeable  walk  of  ten  miles,  brought  me  to 
the  bank  of  Ashley  River,  where  I  breakfasted 
1  Coosawhatchie,  Beaufort  Co.,  S.  C. 
77 


in  a  decent  public-house  with  the  landlord  and  his 
family.  That  man  travels  to  no  purpose  who  sits 
down  alone  to  his  meals.  For  my  part,  I  love  to 
mingle  with  the  sons  and  daughters  of  industry ; 
to  mark  the  economy  of  their  household,  and 
compare  their  mode  of  living  with  that  of  the 
same  class  of  people  in  my  own  country.  The 
opulent  of  every  nation  are  nearly  the  same;  re- 
finement has  polished  away  the  original  stamp  of 
character :  the  true  estimate  of  manners  is  to  be 
made  among  those  in  a  middle  rank  of  life. 

Having  crossed  the  ferry,  I  resumed  my  jour- 
ney through  a  country  which  might  be  assimilated 
to  one  continued  forest.  Tall  trees  of  pine, 
planted  by  the  hand  of  nature  in  regular  rows, 
bordered  the  road  I  travelled ;  and  I  saw  no  other 
animals,  but  now  and  then  a  flock  of  deer,  which 
ceasing  awhile  to  browse,  looked  up  at  me  with 
symptoms  of  wonder  rather  than  fear. 

Along  these  lonely  regions,  where  retir'd 
From  little  scenes  of  art,  great  Nature  dwells 
In  awful  solitude,  and  nought  is  seen 
But  the  wild  herds  that  own  no  master's  stall. 

At  three  in  the  afternoon  I  reached  Jackson- 
borough,  the  only  town  on  the  road  from  Charles- 

78 


ton  to  Coosohatchie.  Though  a  foot-traveller, 
I  was  received  at  the  tavern  with  every  demon- 
stration of  respect ;  the  landlord  ushered  me  into 
a  room  which  afforded  the  largest  fire  I  had  ever 
seen  in  my  travels ;  yet  the  landlord,  rubbing  his 
hands,  complained  it  was  cold,  and  exclaimed 
against  his  negroes  for  keeping  so  bad  a  fire. 
"  Here,  Syphax,"  said  he,  "  be  quick  and  bring 
more  wood:  you  have  made,  you  rascal,  a 
Charleston  fire :  fetch  a  stout  backlog,  or  I  '11 
make  a  backlog  of  you." 

The  exclamations  of  the  landlord  brought  his 
wife  into  the  room.  She  curtesied,  and  made 
many  eloquent  apologies  for  the  badness  of  the 
fire;  but  added,  that  her  waiting  man  Will  had 
run  away,  and  having  whipped  Syphax  till  his 
back  was  raw,  she  was  willing  to  try  what  gentle 
means  would  do. 

A  dinner  of  venison  and  a  pint  of  Madeira 
made  me  forget  I  had  walked  thirty  miles ;  and  it 
being  little  more  than  four  o'clock,  I  proceeded 
forward  on  my  journey.  The  vapours  of  a  Span- 
ish segar  promoted  cogitation,  and  I  was  lament- 
ing the  inequality  of  conditions  in  the  world  when 
night  overtook  me.  I  now  redoubled  my  pace, 

79 


not  without  the  apprehension  that  I  should  have 
to  seek  my  lodgings  in  some  tree,  to  avoid  the 
beasts  that  prowled  nightly  in  the  woods;  but 
the  moon,  which  rose  to  direct  me  in  my  path, 
alleviated  my  perturbation,  and  in  another  hour 
I  descried  the  blaze  of  a  friendly  fire  through  the 
casements  of  a  log  house.  Imaginary  are  worse 
than  real  calamities;  and  the  apprehension  of 
sleeping  in  the  woods  was  by  far  more  painful 
than  the  actual  experience  of  it  would  have  been. 
The  same  Being  who  sends  trials  can  also  inspire 
fortitude. 

The  place  I  had  reached  was  Asheepo,1  a  ham- 
let consisting  of  three  or  more  log  houses;  and 
the  inhabitants  of  every  sex  and  age  had  collected 
round  a  huge  elephant,  which  was  journeying 
with  his  master  to  Savannah.  Fortune  had  there- 
fore brought  me  into  unexpected  company,  and 
I  could  not  but  admire  the  docility  of  the  elephant, 
who  in  solemn  majesty  received  the  gifts  of  the 
children  with  his  trunk.  But  not  so  the  monkey. 
This  man  of  Lord  Monboddo  was  inflamed  with 
rage  at  the  boys  and  girls ;  nor  could  the  rebukes 
of  his  master  calm  the  transports  of  his  fury.  I 
1  Ashepoo,  Colleton  Co.,  S.  C. 
80 


entered  the  log  house  which  accommodated  trav- 
ellers. An  old  negro  man  had  squatted  himself 
before  the  fire.  "  Well,  old  man,"  said  I,  "  why 
don't  you  go  out  to  look  at  the  elephant  ?  "  "  Hie ! 
massa,  he  calf ! "  In  fact  the  elephant  came  from 
Asia,  and  the  negro  from  Africa,  where  he  had 
seen  the  same  species  of  animal,  but  of  much 
greater  magnitude.  Travelling,  says  Shake- 
speare, acquaints  a  man  with  strange  bedfellows ; 
and  there  being  only  one  bed  in  the  log  house,  I 
slept  that  night  with  the  elephant-driver.  Mr. 
Owen  was  a  native  of  Wales,  but  he  had  been  a 
great  traveller,  and  carried  a  map  of  his  travels  in 
his  pocket. 

Nothing  shortens  a  journey  more  than  good 
company  on  the  road;  so  I  departed  after  break- 
fast from  Asheepo,  with  Mr.  Owen,  his  elephant, 
and  his  monkey.  Mr.  Owen  related  to  me  the 
wonders  of  his  elephant,  which  at  some  future 
day,  I  may  perhaps  publish  in  a  separate  treatise ; 
but  they  would  be  irrelative  to  my  present  jour- 
ney, which  towards  noon  I  was  left  to  prosecute 
alone.  The  elephant,  however  docile,  would  not 
travel  without  his  dinner ;  and  Mr.  Owen  halted 
under  a  pine-tree  to  feed  the  mute  companion 

81 


of  his  toils.  For  my  own  part,  I  dined  at  a  soli- 
tary log  house  in  the  woods,  upon  exquisite  veni- 
son. My  host  was  a  small  planter,  who  cultivated  a 
little  rice,  and  maintained  a  wife  and  four  children 
with  his  rifle.  He  had  been  overseer  to  a  Colonel 
Fishborne,  and  owned  half  a  dozen  negroes ;  but 
he  observed  to  me  his  property  was  running  about 
at  large,  for  four  of  them  had  absconded. 

As  I  purposed  to  make  Pocotaligo  the  end  of 
my  day's  journey,  I  walked  forward  at  a  moder- 
ate pace ;  but  towards  evening  I  was  roused  from 
the  reveries  into  which  my  walking  had  plunged 
me,  by  a  conflagration  in  the  woods.  On  either 
side  of  the  road  the  trees  were  in  flames,  which 
extending  to  their  branches,  assumed  an  appear- 
ance both  terrific  and  grotesque.  Through  these 
woods,  belching  flames  and  rolling  smoke,  I  had 
to  travel  nearly  a  mile,  when  the  sound  of  the 
negro's  axe  chopping  of  wood  announced  that 
I  was  near  Pocotaligo.  At  Pocotaligo  I  learned 
that  the  conflagration  in  the  woods  arose  from 
the  carelessness  of  some  backwoodsmen,  who 
having  neglected  to  extinguish  their  fires,  the 
flames  had  extended  in  succession  to  the  herbage 
and  the  trees. 


I  was  somewhat  surprised  on  entering  the  tav- 
ern at  Pocotaligo,  to  behold  sixteen  or  more  chairs 
placed  round  a  table  which  was  covered  with  the 
choicest  dishes ;  but  my  surprise  ceased  when  the 
Savannah  and  Charleston  stage-coaches  stopped 
at  the  door,  and  the  passengers  flocked  to  the  fire 
before  which  I  was  sitting.  In  the  Charleston 
coach  came  a  party  of  comedians.  Of  these  itin- 
erant heroes  the  greater  part  were  my  country- 
men ;  and,  as  I  was  not  travelling  to  see  English- 
men, but  Americans,  I  was  not  sorry  when  they 
retired  to  bed.  I  was  in  a  worse  condition  at 
Pocotaligo  than  Asheepo;  for  at  Pocotaligo  the 
beds  were  so  small  that  they  would  hold  only 
respectively  one  person.  Finding  there  was 
no  bed  to  be  procured,  I  seated  myself  in  a 
nook  of  the  chimney,  called  for  wine  and  segars, 
and  either  attended  to  the  conversation  of 
the  negro  girls  who  had  spread  their  blankets 
on  the  floor,  or  entertained  myself  with  the 
half -formed  notions  of  the  landlord  and  coach- 
man, who  had  brought  their  chairs  to  the  fire, 
and  were  disputing  on  politics.  Both  Ameri- 
cans and  English  are  subject  to  loquacious  im- 
becility. Their  subjects  only  differ.  The  Ameri- 

83 


can  talks  of  his  government,  the  Englishman  of 
himself. 

Early  in  the  morning,  I  resumed  my  journey 
in  the  coach  that  was  proceeding  to  Savannah; 
I  had  but  a  short  distance  more  to  go ;  for  Cooso- 
hatchie  is  only  ten  miles  from  Pocotaligo.  In 
journeying  through  America,  the  Indian  names 
of  places  have  always  awakened  in  my  breast  a 
train  of  reflection ;  a  single  word  will  speak  vol- 
umes to  a  speculative  mind;  and  the  names  of 
Pocotaligo,  and  Coosohatchie,  and  Occoquan, 
have  pictured  to  my  fancy  the  havoc  of  time,  the 
decay  and  succession  of  generations,  together 
with  the  final  extirpation  of  savage  nations,  who, 
unconscious  of  the  existence  of  another  people, 
dreamt  not  of  invasions  from  foreign  enemies,  or 
inroads  from  colonists,  but  believed  their  power 
invincible,  and  their  race  eternal.  I  was  put 
down  at  the  post-office  of  •  Coosohatchie.  The 
postmaster  was  risen,  expecting  the  mail.  He 
invited  me  to  partake  of  a  fire  he  had  just  kindled, 
before  which  a  negro  boy  was  administering  pap 
to  a  sickly  infant,  whom  the  man  always  addressed 
by  the  Homeric  title  of  My  Son.  I  sat  with  the 
postmaster  an  hour,  when  I  sought  out  the  village 

84 


tavern,  where  with  some  trouble  I  knocked  up  a 
miserable  negress,  who,  on  my  entrance,  resumed 
her  slumbers  on  an  old  rug  spread  before  the 
embers  of  the  kitchen  fire,  and  snored  in  oblivion 
of  all  care.  After  all,  I  know  not  whether  those 
whose  condition  wears  the  appearance  of  wretch- 
edness, are  not  greater  favourites  of  nature  than 
the  opulent.  Nothing  comes  amiss  to  the  slave; 
he  will  find  repose  on  the  flint,  when  sleep  flies  the 
eyelids  of  his  master  on  a  bed  of  down.  I  seated 
myself  in  a  nook  of  the  chimney  till  daylight, 
when  the  landlord  came  down;  and,  not  long 
after,  a  servant  was  announced  with  horses,  to 
conduct  me  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Drayton.  An 
hour's  ride  through  a  forest  of  stately  pines, 
brought  me  to  the  plantation,  where  I  was  re- 
ceived with  much  affability  by  Mr.  Drayton  and 
his  lady,  and  where  I  was  doomed  to  pass  the 
winter  in  the  woods  of  Carolina. 


CHAPTER   III 

MEMOIR  OF  MY  LIFE  IN  THE  WOODS 
OF  SOUTH  CAROLINA 

Deep  in  the  bosom  of  a  lofty  wood, 
Near  Coosohatchie's  slow-revolving  flood, 
Where  the  blithe  mocking-bird  repeats  the  lay 
Of  all  the  choir  that  warble  from  the  spray ; 
Where  the  soft  fawn,  and  not  less  tim'rous  hind, 
Beset  by  dogs,  outstrip  in  speed  the  wind ; 
Where  the  grim  wolf,  at  silent  close  of  day, 
With  hunger  bold,  comes  near  the  house  for  prey; 
Along  the  road,  near  yonder  fields  of  corn, 
Where  the  soft  dove  resorts  at  early  morn, 
There  would  my  breast  with  love  of  Nature  glow, 
And  oft  my  thoughts  in  tuneful  numbers  flow ; 
While  friendly  George,  by  ev'ry  Muse  belov'd, 
Smil'd  his  assent,  and  all  my  lays  approv'd. 

ABOUT  half  way  on  the  road  from  Charleston  to 
Savannah,  is  situated  a  little  village  called  Cooso- 
hatchie,  consisting  of  a  blacksmith's  shop,  a  cqurt- 
house,  and  a  jail.  A  small  river  rolls  its  turbid 

86 


water  near  the  place,  on  whose  dismal  banks  are 
to  be  found  many  vestiges  of  the  Indians  that 
once  inhabited  them;  and  in  the  immeasurable 
forests  of  the  neighbourhood  (comprehended 
within  the  district  of  Coosohatchie),  are  several 
scattered  plantations  of  cotton  and  of  rice,  whose 
stubborn  soil  the  poor  negro  moistens  with  his 

tears,  and 

Whose  sore  task 
Does  not  divide  the  Sunday  from  the  week ! 

It  was  on  one  of  these  plantations  that  I  passed 
the  winter  of  1798,  and  the  spring  of  the  follow- 
ing year.  I  lived  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Drayton,  of 
whose  children  I  had  undertaken  the  tuition, 
and  enjoyed  every  comfort  that  opulence  could 
bestow. 

To  form  an  idea  of  Ocean  Plantation,  let  the 
reader  picture  to  his  imagination  an  avenue  of 
several  miles,  leading  from  the  Savannah  road, 
through  a  continued  forest,  to  a  wooden  house, 
encompassed  by  rice-grounds,  corn  and  cotton- 
fields.  On  the  right,  a  kitchen  and  other  offices : 
on  the  left,  a  stable  and  coach-house:  a  little 
further  a  row  of  negro  huts,  a  barn  and  yard: 
the  view  of  the  eye  bounded  by  lofty  woods  of 

87 


pine,  oak  and  hickory.  The  solitude  of  the  woods 
I  found  at  first  rather  dreary;  but  the  polite 
attention  of  an  elegant  family,  a  sparkling  fire 
in  my  room  every  night,  and  a  horse  always  at  my 
command,  reconciled  me  to  my  situation ;  and  my 
impulse  to  sacrifice  to  the  Muses,  which  had  been 
repressed  by  a  wandering  life,  was  once  more 
awakened  by  the  scenery  of  the  woods  of  Caro- 
lina. I  indulged  in  the  composition  of  lyric 
poetry,  and  when  I  had  produced  an  ode,  trans- 
mitted it  to  Freneau,  at  Charleston,  who  published 
it  in  his  Gazette.  But  planters  have  little  dispo- 
sition for  poetry,  and  the  eye  of  the  Carolina 
reader  was  diverted  from  my  effusions  by  the 
more  interesting  advertisements  for  fugitive 
slaves;  I  was  therefore  apprehensive  that  my  rep- 
utation would  not  become  extended  by  the  Muse 
when,  at  the  distance  of  fourteen  hundred  miles,  I 
found  an  eulogist  in  Mr.  Dennie,1  who  conducted 
the  only  literary  paper  in  the  United  States,  and 

1  Dennie,  Joseph  (1768-1812),  a  native  of  Boston, 
graduated  at  Harvard  University  in  1790.  In  1801  he 
established  The  Port  Folio,  which  he  conducted  until  his 
death  in  1812.  He  enjoyed  great  reputation  as  a  writer 
during  his  life.  —  Allibone. 


whose  praise  was  the  more  grateful  from  its  being 
voluntary  and  remote.  "  As  conductors  of  the 
only  paper  on  our  continent  that  is  professedly 
literary,  we  consider  it  incumbent  on  us  to  pay 
the  tribute  of  praise  to  certain  easy  poems  which 
have  appeared  in  the  Charleston  Gazette,  and 
which  instead  of  being  dated  from  Parnassus,  or 
Helicon,  or  at  least  from  some  town  of  our  Union, 
appear  to  originate  in  an  obscure  hamlet,  of  the 
barbarous  and  wigwam  name  of  Coosohatchie. 
Among  the  many  pleasing  effusions  of  this  writer 
is  an  imitation  of  that  exquisite  ode  in  which 
Horace,  under  the  name  of  Pyrrha,  depicts  the 
wiles  of  a  courtezan.  Mr.  D.,  though  stunned 
with  Indian  names,  and  resident  among  Indian 
readers,  has  a  mind  to  comprehend  the  language 
and  catch  the  spirit  of  a  liberal  Roman.  There 
is,  perhaps,  no  ode  of  Horace  more  difficult  to 
render  into  English  than  the  Ode  to  Pyrrha;  and 
many  are  the  versions  that  have  been  attempted 
without  success,  by  writers  distinguished  for 
their  classical  attainments  and  liveliness  of  imagi- 
nation. We,  therefore,  rejoice  to  find  the  task 
performed  with  felicity  on  a  soil  where  genius 
sickens,  and  where  fancy  dies. 

89 


HORACE,  Book  i.  Ode  5,  Imitated 
Quis  multa  gracilis  te  puer  in  rosa,  &c. 

TO   PYRRHA 

WHAT  essenc'd  youth,  on  bed  of  blushing  roses, 
Dissolves  away  within  thy  glowing  arms? 

Or  with  soft  languor  on  thy  breast  reposes, 
Deeply  enamour'd  of  thy  witching  charms? 

For  whom  do  now,  with  wantonness  and  care, 
Thy  golden  locks  in  graceful  ringlets  wave? 

What  swain  now  listens  to  thy  vows  of  air? 

For  whom  doth  now  thy  fragrant  bosom  heave? 

Alas !  how  often  shall  he  curse  the  hour, 
Who,  all-confiding  in  thy  winning  wiles, 

With  sudden  darkness  views  the  heavens  low'r, 
And  finds,  too  late,  the  treach'ry  of  thy  smiles. 

Wretched  are  they,  who,  by  thy  beauty  won, 
Believe  thee  not  less  amiable  than  kind : 

No  more  deluded,  I  thy  charms  disown, 
And  give  thy  vows,  indignant,  to  the  wind. 

We  would  recommend  this  writer  if  he  should 
chuse,  or  be  compelled  to  remain  at  Cooso- 
hatchie,  or  any  other  American  town  of  bar- 
barous etymology,  to  turn  either  usurer,  specu- 
lator or  jew.  His  poetry,  however  happy,  will 
in  this  country  experience  only  the  fate  of  being 

90 


buried  among  the  rubbish  of  advertisements  for 
runaway  negroes.  Neither  Horace,  nor  his  imi- 
tator, will  be  inquired  after;  but  'What's  the 
price  of  cotton?  and  how  a  yoke  of  bullocks? ' 

My  ardour  of  literary  application,  was  increased 
by  such  spontaneous  praise  from  a  man  whose 
writings  were  held  in  the  highest  estimation,  and 
who  was  considered,  from  prescriptive  venera- 
tion, the  American  Arbiter  Elegantiarum.  I 
now  cultivated  the  lighter  ode,  and  felicitated 
myself  on  having  sacrificed  to  the  laurelled  god 
in  the  woods  of  Carolina.  The  common  names 
of  common  towns,  of  Boston,  New  York,  and 
Philadelphia,  awaken  no  curiosity,  because  every 
traveller  has  described  them;  but  Coosohatchie, 
which  has  scarce  ever  reached  the  ear  of  an  Euro- 
pean, cannot  but  possess  the  recommendation  of 
novelty  from  the  Indian  derivation  of  its  name, 
and  the  wildness  of  its  situation.  I  therefore 
rejoice  at  the  destiny  which  brought  me  to  the 
spot;  and  I  envy  not  other  travellers  the  mag- 
nificence of  their  cities. 

The  country  near  Coosohatchie  exhibited  with 
the  coming  spring  a  new  and  enchanting  pros- 
pect. The  borders  of  the  forest  were  covered 


with  the  blossoms  of  the  dogwood,  of  which  the 
white  flowers  caught  the  eye  from  every  part; 
and  often  was  to  be  seen  the  red-bud  tree,  which 
purpled  the  adjacent  woods  with  its  luxuriant 
branches;  while,  not  infrequently,  shrubs  of  jes- 
samine, intermixed  with  the  woodbine,  lined  the 
road  for  several  miles.  The  feathered  choir 
began  to  warble  their  strains,  and  from  every 
tree  was  heard  the  song  of  the  redbird,  of  which 
the  pauses  were  filled  by  the  mocking-bird, 
who  either  imitated  the  note  with  exquisite  pre- 
cision, or  poured  forth  a  ravishing  melody  of  its 
own. 

I  commonly  devoted  my  Sundays  to  the  pleas- 
ure of  exploring  the  country,  and  cheered  by  a 
serene  sky,  and  smiling  landscape,  felt  my  breast 
awakened  to  the  most  rapturous  sensations.  I 
lifted  my  heart  to  that  Supreme  Being  whose 
agency  is  everywhere  confessed;  and  whom  I 
traced  in  the  verdure  of  the  earth,  the  foliage  of 
the  trees,  and  the  water  of  the  stream.  I  have 
ever  been  of  opinion,  that  God  can  be  as  well  pro- 
pitiated in  a  field  as  a  temple ;  that  he  is  not  to  be 
conciliated  by  empty  protestations,  but  grateful 
feelings ;  and  that  the  heart  can  be  devout  when 

92 


the  tongue  is  silent.  Yet  there  is  always  some- 
thing wanting  to  sublunary  felicity;  and  I  con- 
fess, I  felt  very  sensibly  the  privation  of  those 
hills  which  so  agreeably  diversify  the  country  of 
Europe.  I  would  exclaim  in  the  animated  lan- 
guage of  Rousseau :  Jamais  pays  de  plaine,  quel- 
que  beau  qui'l  fut,  ne  parut  tel  a  mes  yeux.  II  me 
faut  des  torrens,  des  rochers,  des  sapins,  des  bois 
noirs,  des  chemins  raboteux  a  monter  &  a  de- 
scendre  des  precipices  a  mes  cotes  qui  me  f assent 
bien  peur. 

In  my  walk  to  Coosohatchie  I  passed  here  and 
there  a  plantation,  but  to  have  called  on  its  owner 
without  a  previous  introduction  would  have  been 
a  breach  of  that  etiquette  which  has  its  source 
from  the  depravity  of  great  cities,  but  has  not 
failed  to  find  its  way  into  the  woods  of  America. 
When  I  first  beheld  a  fine  lady  drawn  by  four 
horses  through  the  woods  of  Carolina  in  her 
coach,  and  a  train  of  servants  following  the  ve- 
hicle, clad  in  a  magnificent  livery,  I  looked  up  with 
sorrow  at  that  luxury  and  refinement  which  are 
hastening  with  rapid  strides  to  change  the  pure 
and  sylvan  scenes  of  nature  into  a  theatre  of  pride 
and  ostentation.  When  Venus  enchanted  Aeneas 

93 


with  her  presence  in  the  woods,  she  was  not  at- 
tired in  the  dress  of  the  ladies  of  Queen  Dido's 
court  but,  huntress  like,  had  hung  from  her  shoul- 
ders a  bow,  and  was  otherwise  equipped  for  the 
toils  of  the  chase. 

I  remember,  with  lively  pleasure,  my  residence 
in  the  woods  of  South  Carolina.  Enjoying  health 
in  its  plenitude,  yet  young  enough  to  receive  new 
impressions;  cultivating  daily  my  taste  by  the 
study  of  polite  literature;  blest  with  the  friend- 
ship of  a  George,  and  living  in  the  bosom  of  a 
family  unruffled  by  domestic  cares;  how  could 
I  be  otherwise  than  happy,  and  how  can  I  refrain 
from  the  pleasure  of  retrospection.  Cooso- 
hatchie!  thou  shalt  not  be  unknown,  if,  by  what 
eloquence  nature  has  given  me  I  can  call  forth 
corresponding  emotions  in  the  breast  of  my 
reader  to  those  which  my  own  felt  when  wander- 
ing silently  through  thy  woods. 

My  pupils,  in  the  woods  of  Coosohatchie,  con- 
sisted of  a  boy  and  two  young  ladies.  William 
Henry  was  an  interesting  lad  of  fourteen,  ingen- 
uous of  disposition,  and  a  stranger  to  fear.  He 
was  fond  to  excess  of  the  chase.  His  heart 
danced  with  joy  at  the  mention  of  a  deer ;  and  he 

94 


blew  his  horn,  called  together  his  dogs,  and 
hooped  and  hallooed  in  the  woods,  with  an  anima- 
tion that  would  have  done  honour  to  a  veteran 
sportsman.  O !  for  the  Muse  of  an  Ovid,  to  de- 
scribe the  dogs  of  this  young  Actaeon.  There 
were  Sweetlips,  and  Ringwood,  and  Music,  and 
Smoker,  whose  barking  was  enough  to  frighten 
the  wood-nymphs  to  their  caves.  —  His  eldest 
sister  Maria,  though  not  a  regular  beauty,  was 
remarkable  for  her  dark  eyes  and  white  teeth, 
and,  what  was  not  less  captivating,  an  amiable 
temper.  She  was  grateful  to  me  for  my  instruc- 
tion, and  imposed  silence  on  her  brother  when  I 
invoked  the  Muse  in  school.  But  it  was  difficult 
to  controul  her  little  sister  Sally,  whom  in  sport 
and  wantonness  they  called  Tibousa.  This  little 
girl  was  distinguished  by  the  languish  of  her  blue 
eyes,  from  which,  however,  she  could  dart  fire 
when  William  offended  her.  Sally  was  a  charm- 
ing girl,  whose  beauty  promised  to  equal  that  of 
her  mother.  That  I  passed  many  happy  hours  in 
watching  and  assisting  the  progress  of  the  minds 
of  these  young  people,  I  feel  no  repugnance  to 
acknowledge.  My  long  residence  in  a  country 
where  "  honour  and  shame  from  no  condition 

95 


rise,"  has  placed  me  above  the  ridiculous  pride  of 
disowning  the  situation  of  a  tutor. 

Though  the  plantation  of  Mr.  Drayton  was 
immense,  his  dwelling  was  only  a  log  house;  a 
temporary  fabric  built  to  reside  in  during  the 
winter.  But  his  table  was  sumptuous,  and  an 
elegance  of  manners  presided  at  it  that  might 
have  vied  with  the  highest  circles  of  polished 
Europe.  I  make  the  eulogium,  or  rather  exhibit 
the  character  of  Mr.  Drayton,  in  one  word,  by 
saying,  he  was  a  gentleman ;  for  under  that  por- 
traiture I  comprehend  whatever  there  is  of 
honour.  Nor  can  I  refrain  from  speaking  in  pan- 
egyric terms  of  his  lady,  whose  beauty  and  ele- 
gance were  her  least  qualities;  for  she  was  a 
tender  mother,  a  sincere  friend,  and  walked 
humbly  with  her  God.  She  was  indeed  deserving 
the  solicitude  of  her  husband,  who  would  not 
suffer  "  the  winds  of  heaven  visit  her  face  too 
roughly." 

It  is  usual  in  Carolina  to  sit  an  hour  at  table 
after  supper;  at  least  it  was  our  custom  in  the 
woods  of  Coosohatchie.  It  was  then  I  related  my 
adventures  in  the  eastern  section  of  the  globe  to 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Drayton,  who  not  only  endured  my 

96 


tales,  but  were  elated  with  my  successes,  and 
depressed  by  my  misfortunes. 

About  ten  I  withdrew  to  my  chamber  and  my 
books,  where  I  found  a  sparkling  fire  of  wood, 
and  where  I  lucubrated,  smoked  segars,  and  was 
lost  in  my  own  musings. 

The  country  in  our  neighbourhood  consisted 
of  lofty  forests  of  pine,  oak,  and  hickory.  Well 
might  I  have  exclaimed  in  the  words  of  my  poet- 
ical friend : 

Around  an  endless  wild  of  forests  lies, 
And  pines  on  pines  for  ever  meet  the  eyes ! 

The  land,  as  I  have  before  suggested,  was  per- 
fectly level.  Not  the  smallest  acclivity  was  vis- 
ible, and  therefore  no  valley  rejoiced  the  sight 
with  its  verdure.  The  staple  commodity  of  the 
State  is  rice ;  but  cotton  is  now  eagerly  cultivated 
where  the  soil  is  adapted  to  the  purpose.  The 
culture  of  indigo  is  nearly  relinquished.  It  attains 
more  perfection  in  the  East  Indies,  which  can 
amply  supply  the  markets  of  Europe.  It  is  to  the 
crop  of  cotton  that  the  planter  looks  for  the  aug- 
mentation of  his  wealth.  Of  cotton  there  are  two 
kinds ;  the  sea-island  and  inland.  The  first  is  the 
most  valuable.  The  ground  is  hoed  for  planting 

97 


the  latter  part  of  March;  but  as  frosts  are  not 
infrequent  the  beginning  of  April,  it  is  judicious 
not  to  plant  before  that  time.  Cotton  is  of  a  very 
tender  nature.  A  frost,  or  even  a  chilling  wind, 
has  power  to  destroy  the  rising  plant,  and  compel 
the  planter  to  begin  anew  his  toil.  The  winds  in 
autumn  are  so  tempestuous,  that  they  tear  up  the 
largest  trees  by  the  roots.  Homer,  some  thou- 
sand years  ago,  witnessed  a  similar  scene: 

Leaves,  arms,  and  trees  aloft  in  air  are  blown, 
The  broad  oaks  crackle,  and  the  sylvans  groan ; 
This  way  and  that  the  rattling  thicket  bends, 
And  the  whole  forest  in  one  crash  descends. 

Of  the  feathered  race,  the  mocking-bird  first 
claims  my  notice.  It  is  perfectly  domestic,  and 
sings  frequently  for  hours  on  the  roof  of  a  log 
house.  It  is  held  sacred  by  the  natives.  Even 
children  respect  the  bird  whose  imitative  powers 
are  so  delightful.  I  heard  the  mocking-bird  for 
the  first  time  on  the  first  day  of  March.  It  was 
warbling,  close  to  my  window,  from  a  tree  called 
by  some  the  Pride  of  India,  and  by  others  Poison- 
berry  Tree.  Its  song  was  faint,  resembling  that 
of  birds  hailing  the  rising  sun;  but  it  became 
stronger  as  the  spring  advanced. 


The  humming-bird  was  often  caught  in  the 
bells  of  flowers.  It  is  remarkable  for  its  varie- 
gated plumage  of  scarlet,  green  and  gold. 

The  whippoorwill,  is  heard  after  the  last  frost, 
when,  towards  night,  it  fills  the  woods  with  its 
melancholy  cry  of  WhippoorWill!  Whippoor- 
Willl  I  remember  to  have  seen  mention  made 
of  this  bird  in  a  Latin  poem,  written  by  an  early 
colonist : 

Hie  avis  repetens,  Whip!   Whip!   Will,  voce  jocosa, 
Qua  tota  verno  tempore  nocte  canit. 

The  note  of  the  redbird  is  imitated  with  nice 
precision  by  the  mocking-bird ;  but  there  is  a  bird 
called  the  loggerhead  that  will  not  bear  passively 
its  taunts.  His  cry  resembles  Clink,  clink,  clink; 
which,  should  the  mocking-bird  presume  to  imi- 
tate it,  he  flies  and  attacks  the  mimic  for  his  inso- 
lence. But  this  only  incurs  a  repetition  of  the 
offense ;  so  true  is  it  that  among  birds  as  well  as 
men  anger  serves  only  to  sharpen  the  edge  of 
ridicule.  It  is  observable,  that  the  loggerhead  is 
known  to  suck  the  eggs  of  the  mocking-bird,  and 
devour  the  young  ones  in  the  nest. 

Eagles  were  often  seen  on  the  plantation.  The 
rencounter  between  one  of  them  and  a  fish-hawk 

99 


is  curious.  When  the  fish-hawk  has  seized  his 
prey,  his  object  is  to  get  above  the  eagle;  but 
when  unable  to  succeed,  the  king  of  birds  darts 
on  him  fiercely,  at  whose  approach  the  hawk,  with 
a  horrid  cry,  lets  fall  the  fish,  which  the  eagle 
catches  in  his  beak  before  it  descends  to  the 
ground. 

The  woods  abound  with  deer,  the  hunting  of 
which  forms  the  chief  diversion  of  the  planters. 
I  never  failed  to  accompany  my  neighbours  in 
their  parties,  but  I  cannot  say  that  I  derived  much 
pleasure  from  standing  several  hours  behind  a 
tree.  This  mode  of  hunting,  is,  perhaps,  not  gen- 
erally known.  On  riding  to  a  convenient  spot 
in  the  woods,  the  hunters  dismount,  take  their 
stands  at  certain  distances,  hitch  their  horses  to 
a  tree,  and  prepare  their  guns,  while  a  couple  pf 
negroes  lead  the  beagles  into  the  thickest  of  the 
forest.  The  barking  of  the  dogs  announces  the 
deer  are  dislodged,  and  on  whatever  side  they 
run  the  sportsmen  fire  at  them  from  their  lurking- 
places.  The  first  day  two  bucks  passed  near  my 
tree.  I  had  heard  the  cry  of  the  dogs,  and  put 
my  gun  on  a  whole  cock.  The  first  buck  glided 
by  me  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning;  but  the 

100 


second  I  wounded  with  my  fire,  as  was  evident 
from  his  twitching  his  tail  between  his  legs  in  the 
agony  of  pain.  I  heard  Colonel  Pastell  exclaim 
from  the  next  tree,  after  discharging  his  piece, 
"  By  heaven,  that  fellow  is  wounded,  let  us  mount 
and  follow  him,  —  he  cannot  run  far."  I  accom- 
panied the  venerable  colonel  through  the  woods, 
and  in  a  few  minutes,  directed  by  the  scent  of  a 
beagle,  we  reached  the  spot  where  the  deer  had 
fallen.  It  was  a  noble  buck,  and  we  dined  on  it 
like  kings. 

Fatal  accidents  sometimes  attend  the  hunters 
in  the  woods.  Two  brothers,  a  few  years  ago, 
having  taken  their  respective  stands  behind  a 
tree,  the  elder  fired  at  a  deer  which  the  dogs  had 
started;  but,  his  shot  being  diverted  by  a  fence, 
it  flew  off  and  lodged  in  the  body  of  his  brother. 
The  deer  passing  on,  the  wounded  brother  dis- 
charged his  gun,  which  had  been  prepared,  killed 
the  animal,  and'  staggering  a  few  paces,  expired 
himself.  This  disaster  was  related  to  me  by  Col- 
onel Pastell  and  his  son;  Major  Warley  and 
Captain  Pelotte,  who  lived  on  the  neighbouring 
plantations,  and  composed  our  hunting-party. 

After  killing  half  a  dozen  deer,  we  assembled 

IOI 


by  appointment  at  some  planter's  house,  whither 
the  mothers,  and  wives,  and  daughters  of  the 
hunters  had  got  before  us  in  their  carriages.  A 
dinner  of  venison,  killed  the  preceding  hunt, 
smoked  before  us;  the  richest  Madeira  sparkled 
in  the  glass,  and  we  forgot  in  our  hilarity,  there 
was  any  other  habitation  for  man  but  that  of  the 
woods.  In  this  hunting-party  was  always  to  be 
found  my  pupil  William  Henry,  who  galloped 
through  the  woods,  however  thick  or  intricate; 
summoned  his  beagles,  after  the  toil  of  the  chase, 
with  his  horn ;  caressed  the  dog  that  had  been  the 
most  eager  in  pursuit  of  the  deer,  and  expressed 
his  hope  there  would  be  good  weather  to  hunt 
again  the  following  Saturday.  I  did  not  repress 
this  ardour  in  my  pupil.  I  beheld  it  with  satis- 
faction ;  for  the  man  doomed  to  pass  every  winter 
in  the  woods,  would  find  his  life  very  irksome, 
could  he  not  partake,  with  his  neighbours,  in  the 
diversions  they  afford. 

Ludere  qui  nescit,  campestribus  abstinet  armis, 
Indoctusque  pilae,  discive  trochive  quiescit, 
Ne  spissae  risum  tollant  impune  coronae.* 

1  Ars  Poetica,  379. 
102 


Wolves  were  sometimes  heard  on  the  planta- 
tion in  the  night;  and,  when  incited  by  hunger, 
would  attack  a  calf  and  devour  it.  One  night, 
however,  some  wolves  endeavouring  to  seize  a 
calf,  the  dam  defended  her  offspring  with  such 
determined  resolution,  that  the  hungry  assailants 
were  compelled  to  retreat  with  the  tail  only  of  the 
calf,  which  one  of  them  had  bitten  off. 

Wildcats  are  very  common  and  mischievous  in 
the  woods.  When  a  sow  is  ready  to  litter,  she  is 
always  enclosed  with  a  fence  or  rails,  for,  other- 
wise, the  wildcats  would  devour  the  pigs.  , 

I  generally  accompanied  my  pupil  into  the 
woods  in  his  shooting  excursions,  determined 
both  to  make  havoc  among  birds  and  beasts  of 
every  description.  Sometimes  we  fired  in  volleys 
at  the  flocks  of  doves  that  frequent  the  corn-fields ; 
sometimes  we  discharged  our  pieces  at  the  wild 
geese,  whose  empty  cackling  betrayed  them;  and 
once  we  brought  down  some  paroquets,  that  were 
directing  their  course  over  our  heads  to  Georgia. 
Nor  was  it  an  undelightful  task  to  fire  at  the 
squirrels  on  the  tops  of  the  highest  trees,  who, 
however  artful,  could  seldom  elude  the  shot  of 
my  eager  companion. 

103 


The  affability  and  tenderness  of  this  charming 
family  in  the  bosom  of  the  woods,  will  be  ever 
cherished  in  my  breast,  and  long  recorded,  I  hope, 
in  this  page.  My  wants  were  always  anticipated. 
The  family  library  was  transported  without  en- 
treaty into  my  chamber ;  paper  and  the  apparatus 
for  writing,  were  placed  on  my  table;  and  once 
having  lamented  that  my  stock  of  segars  was 
nearly  exhausted,  a  negro  was  dispatched  seventy 
miles  to  Charleston  for  a  supply  of  the  best 
Spanish. 

I  conclude  my  description  of  this  elegant  family 
with  an  observation  that  will  apply  to  every  other 
that  I  have  been  domesticated  in,  on  the  Western 
Continent;  —  that  cheerfulness  and  quiet  always 
predominated,  and  that  I  never  saw  a  brow 
clouded,  or  a  lip  opened  in  anger. 

One  diminution  to  the  happiness  of  an  Euro- 
pean in  the  woods  of  Carolina  is  the  reflection 
that  every  want  is  supplied  him  by  slaves.  What- 
ever may  be  urged  on  the  subject  of  negroes,  as 
the  voice  of  millions  could  lend  no  support  to 
falsehood,  so  no  casuistry  can  justify  the  keeping 
of  slaves.  That  negroes  are  human  beings  is 
confessed  by  their  partaking  with  the  rest  of  man- 

104 


kind  in  the  faculty  of  speech,  and  power  of  com- 
bination. Now,  no  man  being  born  a  slave,  but 
with  his  original  rights,  the  supposed  property 
of  the  master  in  the  slave  is  an  usurpation  and 
not  a  right;  because  no  one  from  being  a  person 
can  become  a  thing.  From  this  conviction  should 
every  good  citizen  promote  the  emancipation  of 
negroes  in  America. 

The  negroes  on  the  plantation,  including  house- 
servants  and  children,  amounted  to  a  hundred; 
of  whom  the  average  price  being  respectively 
seventy  pounds,  made  them  aggregately  worth 
seven  thousand  to  their  possessor.  Two  families 
lived  in  one  hut,  and  such  was  their  unconquer- 
able propensity  to  steal,  that  they  pilfered  from 
each  other.  I  have  heard  masters  lament  this 
defect  in  their  negroes.  But  what  else  can  be 
expected  from  man  in  so  degraded  a  condition, 
that  among  the  ancients  the  same  word  implied 
both  a  slave  and  a  thief? 

Since  the  introduction  of  the  culture  of  cotton 
in  the  State  of  South  Carolina,  the  race  of  negroes 
has  increased.  Both  men  and  women  work  in  the 
field,  and  the  labour  of  the  rice-plantation  for- 
merly prevented  the  pregnant  negress  from  bring- 

105 


ing  forth  a  long-lived  offspring.  It  may  be  estab- 
lished as  a  maxim  that,  on  a  plantation  where 
there  are  many  children,  the  work  has  been  mod- 
erate. It  may  be  incredible  to  some  that  the 
children  of  the  most  distinguished  families  in 
Carolina  are  suckled  by  negro  women.  Each 
child  has  its  momma,  whose  gestures  and  accent 
it  will  necessarily  copy;  for  children,  we  all 
know,  are  imitative  beings.  It  is  not  unusual  to 
hear  an  elegant  lady  say,  "  Richard  always 
grieves  when  Quasheehaw  is  whipped,  because 
she  suckled  him."  If  Rousseau  in  his  Emile  could 
inveigh  against  the  French  mother  who  con- 
signed her  child  to  a  woman  of  her  own  colour 
to  suckle,  how  would  his  indignation  have  been 
raised  to  behold  a  smiling  babe  tugging  with  its 
roseate  lips  at  a  dug  of  a  size  and  colour  to 
affright  a  satyr? 

Of  genius  in  negroes  many  instances  may  be 
recorded.  It  is  true  that  Mr.  Jefferson  has  pro- 
nounced the  Poems  of  Phillis  Wheately1  below 

1  Wheatley,  Phillis.  Memoir  and  Poems  of  Phillis 
Wheatley,  a  native  African  and  a  Slave.  Dedicated  to 
the  Friends  of  the  Africans.  Boston.  Published  by 
George  W.  Light.  1834.  I2mo.  pp.  103. 

106 


the  dignity  of  criticism  and  it  is  seldom  safe  to 
differ  in  judgment  from  the  author  of  Notes  on 
Virginia.  But  her  conceptions  are  often  lofty, 
and  her  versification  often  surprises  with  unex- 
pected refinement.  Ladd,1  the  Carolina  poet,  in 
enumerating  the  bards  of  his  country,  dwells  with 
encomium  on  "  Wheately's  polished  verse ;  "  nor 
is  his  praise  undeserved,  for  often  it  will  be  found 
to  glide  in  the  stream  of  melody.  Her  lines  on 
Imagination  have  been  quoted  with  rapture  by 
Imlay  of  Kentucky,2  and  Steadman  the  Guiana 

1  Ladd,  William,  was  born  at  Newport,  Rhode  Island, 
in  1755.     In  1786  he  became  engaged  in  a  newspaper 
controversy,  in  Charleston,  upon  some  political  matter. 
This  led  to  a  personal  misunderstanding,  and  a  challenge 
was  sent  him,  and  accepted.     A  duel  was  fought,  and 
Ladd  received  a  wound  which  was  not  considered  dan- 
gerous;   but  this  unhappy  man  was  languishing  in  de- 
spair, and  had  become  weary  of  life.     He  refused  all 
medical  aid,  and  a  mortification  ensued.    He  died  in  his 
thirty-third  year.    A  collection  of  his  writings  was  pub- 
lished at  Charleston   in   1786,  with  the  title  of  "The 
Poems  of  Arouet."    It  is  said  this  volume  contains  but 
a  small  portion  of  his  best  poems,  and  that  the  most  of 
his  epistles  to  Amanda  are  now  lost.  —  Kettell :    Speci- 
mens of  American  Poetry.    1829.    Vol.  I,  p.  334. 

2  Imlay,  Gilbert,  author,  bora  in  New  Jersey  about 
1750.     He  was  a  captain  in  the  American  army  during 
the  Revolutionary  war,  and  after  its  termination  emi- 

107 


traveller;  but  I  have  ever  thought  her  happiest 
production,  the  Goliah  of  Gath. 

Of  Ignatius  Sancho  *  Mr.  Jefferson  also  speaks 
neglectingly;  and  remarks  that  he  substitutes 
sentiment  for  argumentation.  But  I  know  not 
that  argumentation  is  required  in  a  familiar 
epistle;  and  Sancho,  I  believe,  has  only  published 
his  Correspondence. 

Before  I  quit  the  woods  of  Coosohatchie,  it  will 
be  expected  from  me  to  fill  the  imagination  of  my 
reader  with  the  "  vengeful  terrors  of  the  rattle- 
grated  to  Kentucky.  During  his  stay  in  Kentucky,  Imlay 
wrote  glowing  descriptions  of  the  country  in  a  series  of 
letters  to  a  friend  in  England.  These  were  revised  and 
embodied  in  a  volume  styled  "  A  Topographical  Descrip- 
tion of  the  Western  Territory  of  North  America."  Imlay 
was  also  the  author  of  "  The  Emigrants,  or  the  History 
of  an  Exiled  Family,"  a  novel  (3  vols.,  London,  1793). — 
Appleton's  Cyclopaedia  of  American  Biography. 

1  Sancho,  Ignatius,  the  child  of  African  parents,  b. 
1729,  on  board  of  a  slave-ship,  a  few  days  after  it  had 
left  the  coast  of  Guinea  for  the  Spanish  West  Indies,  was 
patronized  by  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Montague,  domi- 
ciled as  servant  with  three  maiden  sisters  near  Green- 
wich, England,  and  ended  his  days  in  1780  as  the  pro- 
prietor of  a  grocery-store.  He  published  an  essay  on  the 
theory  of  music,  was  a  judge  of  painting,  and  composed 
dramas  and  poems.  —  Allibone. 

108 


snake,"  that  meditates  destruction  to  the  unwary. 
Were  I  really  pleased  with  such  tales,  I  would  not 
content  myself  with  the  story  of  the  fascinating 
power  of  a  rattlesnake  over  birds,  but  relate 
how  a  negro  was  once  irresistibly  charmed  and 
devoured. 

Vegetation  is  singularly  quick  in  the  woods  of 
Carolina.  Of  flowers,  the  jessamine  and  wood- 
bine grow  wild;  but  the  former  differs  widely 
from  that  known  by  the  same  name  in  England, 
being  of  a  straw  colour,  and  having  large  bells. 
Violets  perfume  the  woods  and  roads  with  their 
fragrance.  In  bogs  and  marshy  situations  is 
found  the  singular  plant  called  the  fly-catcher  by 
the  natives,  and,  I  believe,  dionaea  muscipula  by 
botanists.  Its  jointed  leaves  are  furnished  with 
two  rows  of  strong  prickles,  of  which  the  sur- 
faces are  covered  with  a  quantity  of  minute  glands 
that  secrete  a  sweet  liquor,  which  allures  the  flies. 
When  these  parts  are  touched  by  the  legs  of  a 
fly,  the  two  lobes  of  the  leaf  immediately  rise, 
the  rows  of  prickles  compress  themselves,  and 
squeeze  the  unwary  insect  to  death.  But  a  straw 
or  pin  introduced  between  the  lobes  will  excite 
the  same  motions. 

109 


The  honey  of  the  bees  in  Carolina  is  exquisitely 
delicious,  and  these  insects  are  very  sagacious  in 
chusing  their  retreats.  They  seek  lodgings  in 
the  upper  part  of  the  trunk  of  the  loftiest  tree; 
but  here  their  nests  cannot  elude  the  searching 
eyes  of  the  negroes  and  children.  The  tree  is 
either  scaled,  or  cut  down,  the  bees  are  tumbled 
from  their  honeyed  domes,  and  their  treasures 
rifled. 

"  Sic  vos  non  vobis  mellificatis  apes! " 

These  are  the  few  observations  that  I  made  on 
the  productions  of  nature  before  me;  a  study  I 
have  ever  considered  subordinate  when  compared 
to  that  of  life.  I  have  used  only  the  popular 
names,  though  without  any  labour  I  could  have 
dignified  my  page  with  terms  of  the  naturalist; 
for  I  had  all  the  Latin  phrases  at  the  end  of  my 
pen.  But  I  return  from  brutes  to  man,  though 
many  readers  may  be  of  opinion  that  in  exhibit- 
ing the  cruelty  and  wantonness  of  planters  over 
their  slaves  I  change  not  the  subject. 

It  appears  to  me  that  in  Carolina  the  simplicity 
of  the  first  colonists  is  obliterated,  and  that  the 
present  inhabitants  strive  to  exceed  each  other  in 

no 


the  vanities  of  life.  Slight  circumstances  often 
mark  the  manners  of  a  people.  In  the  opulent  fam- 
ilies there  is  always  a  negro  placed  on  the  lookout 
to  announce  the  coming  of  any  visitant;  and  the 
moment  a  carriage  or  horseman  is  descried,  each 
negro  changes  his  every-day  garb  for  a  magnifi- 
cent suit  of  livery.  As  the  negroes  wear  no  shirts, 
this  is  quickly  effected;  and  in  a  few  moments  a 
ragged  fellow  is  metamorphosed  into  a  spruce 
footman.  And  woe  to  them  should  they  neglect 
it;  for  their  master  would  think  himself  dis- 
graced, and  Sambo  and  Cuffey  incur  a  severe 
flogging. 

In  Carolina  the  legislative  and  executive 
powers  of  the  house  belong  to  the  mistress.  The 
master  has  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  the  admin- 
istration; he  is  a  monument  of  uxoriousness  and 
passive  endurance.  The  negroes  are  not  without 
the  discernment  to  perceive  this;  and  when  the 
husband  resolves  to  flog  them  they  often  throw 
themselves  at  the  feet  of  the  wife,  and  supplicate 
her  mediation.  But  the  ladies  of  Carolina,  and 
particularly  those  of  Charleston,  have  little  ten- 
derness for  their  slaves;  on  the  contrary,  they 
send  both  their  men  slaves  and  women  slaves,  for 

in 


the  most  venial  trespass,  to  a  hellish  mansion 
called  the  sugar-house:  here  a  man  employs  in- 
ferior agents  to  scourge  the  poor  negroes :  a  shil- 
ling for  a  dozen  lashes  is  the  charge.  The  man, 
or  woman,  is  stripped  naked  to  the  waist;  a  re- 
doubtable whip  at  every  lash  flays  the  back  of 
the  culprit,  who,  agonized  at  every  pore,  rends 

the  air  with  his  cries.  Mrs.  D informed  me 

that  a  lady  of  Charleston  once  observed  to  her, 
that  she  thought  it  abominably  dear  to  pay  a  shil- 
ling for  a  dozen  lashes,  and,  that  having  many 
slaves,  she  would  bargain  with  the  man  at  the 
sugar-house  to  flog  them  by  the  year ! 

It  has  been  observed  by  Mr.  Jefferson  that 
negroes,  secreting  little  by  the  kidneys,  but  much 
by  the  pores,  exhale  a  strong  effluvia.  But  great 
is  the  power  of  habit;  and  in  the  hottest  day  of 
summer,  when  the  thermometer  in  the  shade  has 
risen  to  a  hundred,  I  have  witnessed  a  dinner- 
party of  ladies  and  gentlemen  surrounded  by  a 
tribe  of  lusty  negro  men  and  women.  I  leave  my 
reader  to  draw  the  inference. 

Of  the  understanding  of  negroes  the  masters 
in  Carolina  have  a  very  mean  opinion.  But  it  is 
obvious  to  a  stranger  of  discernment  that  the  sen- 
na 


timents  of  black  Cuffey  who  waits  at  table,  are 
often  not  less  just  or  elevated  than  those  of  his 
white  ruler,  into  whose  hand  Fortune,  by  one  of 
her  freaks,  has  put  the  whip  of  power.  Nor  is 
there  much  difference  in  their  language;  for 
many  planters  seem  incapable  of  displaying  their 
sovereignty  by  any  other  mode  than  menaces  and 
imprecations.  Indeed,  it  must  occur  to  everyone, 
that  were  things  to  be  reorganised  in  their  natural 
order,  the  master  would,  in  many  parts  of  the 
globe,  exchange  places  with  his  servant. 

An  Englishman  cannot  but  draw  a  proud  com- 
parison between  his  own  country  and  Carolina. 
He  feels  with  a  glow  of  enthusiasm  the  force  of 
the  poet's  exclamation:  „ 

Slaves  cannot  breathe  in  England;  .  .  . 
They  touch  our  country,  and  their  shackles  fall. 
That 's  noble,  and  bespeaks  a  nation  proud 
And  jealous  of  the  blessing. 

[COWPER.] 

It  is,  indeed,  grating  to  an  Englishman  to 
mingle  with  society  in  Carolina;  for  the  people, 
however  well-bred  in  other  respects,  have  no  deli- 
cacy before  a  stranger  in  what  relates  to  their 
slaves.  These  wretches  are  execrated  for  every 

"3 


involuntary  offence;  but  negroes  endure  execra- 
tions without  emotion,  for  they  say,  "  When 
mossa  curse,  he  break  no  bone."  But  every 
master  does  not  confine  himself  to  oaths;  and 
I  have  heard  a  man  say,  "  By  heaven,  my 
negurs  talk  the  worst  English  of  any  in  Caro- 
lina; that  boy  just  now  called  a  bason  a  round 
something :  take  him  to  the  driver !  let  him  have 
a  dozen ! " 

Exposed  to  such  wanton  cruelty  the  negroes 
frequently  run  away;  they  flee  into  the  woods, 
where  they  are  wet  with  the  rains  of  heaven,  and 
embrace  the  rock  for  want  of  a  shelter.  Life  must 
be  supported;  hunger  incites  to  depredation,  and 
the  poor  wretches  are  often  shot  like  the  beasts 
of  prey.  When  taken,  the  men  are  put  in  irons, 
and  the  boys  have  their  necks  encircled  with  a 
"  pot-hook."  The  Charleston  papers  abound  with 
advertisements  for  fugitive  slaves.  I  have  a 
curious  advertisement  now  before  me :  —  "  Stop 
the  runaway!  Fifty  dollars  reward!  Whereas 
my  waiting-fellow,  Will,  having  eloped  from  me 
last  Saturday,  without  any  provocation,  (it  being 
known  that  I  am  a  humane  master),  the  above 

reward  will  be  paid  to  any  one  who  will  lodge  the 

114 


aforesaid  slave  in  some  jail,  or  deliver  him  to  me 
on  my  plantation  at  Liberty  Hall.  Will  may  be 
known  by  the  incisions  of  the  whip  on  his  back; 
and  I  suspect  has  taken  the  road  to  Coosohatchie, 
where  he  has  a  wife  and  five  children,  whom  I 
sold  last  week  to  Mr.  Gillespie. 

A.  LEVI." 

Thus  are  the  poor  negroes  treated  in  Carolina. 
Indeed,  planters  usually  consider  their  slaves  as 
beings  defective  in  understanding;  an  opinion 
that  excites  only  scorn  from  the  philosopher.  The 
human  soul  possesses  faculties  susceptible  of  im- 
provement, without  any  regard  to  the  colour  of 
the  skin.  It  is  education  that  makes  the  differ- 
ence between  the  master  and  the  slave.  Shall  the 
imperious  planter  say,  that  the  swarthy  sons  of 
Africa,  who  now  groan  under  his  usurpation  of 
their  rights,  would  not  equal  him  in  virtue,  knowl- 
edge and  manners,  had  they  been  born  free,  and 
with  the  same  advantages  in  the  scale  of  society? 
It  is  to  civilization  that  even  Europeans  owe  their 
superiority  over  the  savage;  who  knows  only 
how  to  hunt  and  fish,  to  hew  out  a  canoe  from  a 
tree,  and  construct  a  wretched  hut;  and  but  for 
this,  the  inhabitants  of  Britain  had  still  bent  the 

"5 


bow,  still  clothed  themselves  in  skins,  and  still 
traversed  the  woods. 

No  climate  can  be  hotter  than  that  of  South 
Carolina  and  Georgia.  In  the  piazza  of  a  house 
at  Charleston,  when  a  breeze  has  prevailed,  and 
there  has  been  no  other  building  near  to  reflect 
the  heat  of  the  sun,  I  have  known  the  mercury  in 
Fahrenheit's  thermometer  to  stand  at  101.  In 
the  night  it  did  not  sink  below  89.  Animal  heat 
I  ascertained  to  be  less  than  the  heat  of  the 
weather.  By  confining  the  thermometer  to  the 
hottest  part  of  my  body,  I  found  the  mercury  sub- 
side from  101  to  96.  In  fact,  I  never  could  raise 
the  thermometer  higher  than  96  by  animal  heat.1 
In  a  voyage  to  the  East  Indies  I  kept  a  regular 
account  of  the  height  of  the  thermometer,  both  in 
the  sun  and  the  shade.  My  journal  is  now  before 
me.  At  eight  in  the  morning,  when  our  ship  was 
on  the  equator,  the  thermometer  in  the  shade  was 
only  77  degrees ;  and  the  same  day  in  the  sun  at 
noon  it  was  99.*  It  may  be  advanced  that  the 

1  Boerhaave  fixed  the  vital  heat  at  only  92  degrees; 
but  both  Sir  Isaac  Newton  and  Fahrenheit  have  made 
it  96. 

*  I  have  found,  since  making  these  observations,  that 

116 


pavements  of  Charleston,  and  the  situation  of 
Savannah,  which  is  built  on  a  sandy  eminence, 
may  augment  the  heat  of  the  weather ;  but  be  that 
as  it  may,  it  is,  I  think,  incontrovertible,  that  no 
two  places  on  the  earth  are  hotter  than  Savannah 
and  Charleston.  I  do  not  remember  that  the 
thermometer  in  the  shade  at  Batavia  exceeded 
101. 

But  if  the  heat  of  the  weather  in  the  southern- 
most States  be  excessive,  not  less  sudden  are  its 
changes.  In  fact,  so  variable  is  the  weather,  that 
one  day  not  infrequently  exhibits  the  vicissitudes 
of  the  four  seasons.  The  remark  of  an  early  col- 
onist is  more  than  poetically  true : 

Hie  adeo  inconstans  est,  et  variable  caelum, 
Una  ut  non  raro  est  aesfus  hiemsque  die. 

I  have  known  one  day  the  mercury  to  stand  at 
85 ;  and  the  next  it  has  sunk  to  39.  But  it  is  from 
the  middle  of  June  to  the  middle  of  September 
that  the  excessive  heats  prevail.  It  is  then  the 

from  nearly  4000  experiments  made  at  Madras,  the 
medium  height  of  the  thermometer  was  80,9.  The  gen- 
eral greatest  height,  87,1 ;  and  the  least,  75,5.  The  ex- 
treme difference  1 1,1/2. 

117 


debilitating  quality  of  the  weather  consigns  the 
languid  lady  to  her  sofa,  who,  if  she  lets  fall  her 
pocket-handkerchief,  has  not  strength  to  pick  it 
up,  but  calls  to  one  of  her  black  girls,  who  is  all 
life  and  vigour.  Hence  there  is  a  proportion  of 
good  and  evil  in  every  condition ;  for  a  negro  girl 
is  not  more  a  slave  to  her  mistress  than  her  mis- 
tress to  a  sofa ;  and  the  one  riots  in  health  while 
the  other  has  every  faculty  enervated.  Negroes 
are  remarkably  tolerant  of  heat.  A  negro  in  the 
hottest  month  will  court  a  fire. 

From  the  black  there  is  an  easy  transition  to 
the  white  man.  Society  in  Carolina  exhibits  not 
that  unrestrained  intercourse  which  characterises 
English  manners.  And  this  remark  will  apply 
throughout  the  States  of  the  Union.  The  English 
have  been  called  reserved;  and  an  American  who 
forms  his  notions  of  their  manners  from  Addison 
and  Steele,  entertains  a  contemptible  opinion  of 
the  cheerfulness  that  prevails  in  the  "  nook- 
shotten  isle  of  Albion."  But  let  the  cheerfulness 
of  both  countries  be  fairly  weighed,  and  I  believe 
the  scale  will  preponderate  in  favour  of  the  Eng- 
lish. That  quality  termed  humour  is  not  indig- 
enous to  America.  The  pleasantries  of  a  droll 

118 


would  not  relax  the  risible  muscles  of  a  party  of 
Americans,  however  disposed  to  be  merry;  the 
wag  would  feel  no  encouragement  from  the  sur- 
rounding countenances  to  exert  his  laughter- 
moving  powers;  but,  like  the  tyrant  in  the  trag- 
edy, he  would  be  compelled  to  swallow  the  poison 
that  was  prepared  for  another.  Cotton  in  Caro- 
lina, and  horse-racing  in  Virginia,  are  the  pre- 
vailing topics  of  conversation :  these  reduce  every 
understanding  to  a  level,  and  to  these  Americans 
return  from  the  ebullitions  of  the  humourist,  as 
the  eye  weary  of  contemplating  the  sun  rejoices 
to  behold  the  verdure. 

Captain  Pelotte,  who,  I  have  observed,  com- 
posed one  of  our  hunting-party,  having  invited 
me  to  the  review  of  the  militia  of  Coosohatchie 
district,  I  rode  with  him  to  the  muster-field  near 
Bee's  Creek,  where  his  troop  was  assembled.  It 
was  a  pleasant  spot  of  thirty  acres,  belonging  to 
a  schoolmaster,  who  educated  the  children  of 
the  families  in  the  neighbourhood.  —  There  is 
scarcely  any  contemplation  more  pleasing  than 
the  sight  of  a  flock  of  boys  and  girls  just  let  loose 
from  school.  Those  whom  nature  designed  for 

an  active,  enterprising  life,  will  contend  for  being 

119 


the  foremost  to  cross  the  threshold  of  the  school- 
door;  while  others  of  a  more  wary  temper  keep 
remote  from  the  strife.  —  A  throng  of  boys  and 
girls  was  just  released  from  the  confinement  of 
the  school  as  I  reached  Bee's  Creek  with  Captain 
Pelotte.  Our  horses  and  they  were  mutually  ac- 
quainted. The  beasts  pricked  up  their  ears,  and 
some  of  the  children  saluted  them  by  name ;  while 
some,  regardless  of  both  the  horses  and  their 
riders,  were  earnestly  pursuing  butterflies ;  some 
stooping  to  gather  flowers ;  some  chaunting  songs ; 
and  all  taking  the  road  that  led  to  the  muster- 
field.  If  ever  I  felt  the  nature  that  breathes 
through  Shenstone's  school  poem,  it  was  on  be- 
holding this  band  of  little  men  and  little  women : 

And  now  Dan  Phoebus  gains  the  middle  skie, 

And  Liberty  unbars  her  prison  door, 
And  like  a  rushing  torrent  out  they  fly, 

And  now  the  grassy  cirque  have  covered  o'er 
With  boist'rous  revel-rout  and  wild  uproar; 

A  thousand  ways  in  wanton  rings  they  run, 
Heaven  shield  their  short-livM  pastimes,  I  implore ! 

For  well  may  Freedom,  erst  so  dearly  won, 
[Be  to  Columbia's  sons]  more  gladsome  than  the  sun ! 

Captain  Pelotte,  having  reviewed  his  soldiers, 

marched  them  triumphantly  round  a  huge  oak 

120 


that  grew  in  the  centre  of  the  parade,  animated 
by  the  sound  of  the  spirit-stirring  drum;  and 
afterwards  laid  siege  to  a  dinner  of  venison  in 
the  open  air,  to  which  I  gave  my  assistance.  It 
was  a  republican  meal.  Captain,  lieutenants,  and 
privates,  all  sat  down  together  at  table,  and 
mingled  in  familiar  converse.  But  the  troop  de- 
voured such  an  enormous  quantity  of  rice  that  I 
was  more  than  once  inclined  to  believe  they  had 
emigrated  from  China. 

On  the  7th  of  April,  1799,  I  accepted  the  invi- 
tation of  a  Mr.  Wilson,  who  was  visiting  the 
family  at  Ocean,  to  accompany  him  to  Savannah ; 
glad  with  the  opportunity  to  extend  my  travels 
into  Georgia,  and  not  less  happy  to  cultivate  his 
acquaintance.  We  left  Ocean  plantation  at  eight 
in  the  morning.  Mr.  Wilson  drove  himself  in 
a  sulky,  and  I  rode  on  horseback,  followed  by 
a  servant  on  another.  Our  journey  offered  noth- 
ing to  the  view  but  an  uncultivated  tract,  or 
one  continued  pine-barren;  for  Priesburg  is 
a  village  composed  of  only  three  houses,  and 
Barnazoba  can  boast  only  the  same  number  of 
plantations. 

Having  refreshed  ourselves  in  the  house  of 

121 


Mr.  Hayward's  overseer  (the  lady  was  gone  to 
Charleston),  we  waded  from  Barnazoba,  through 
mud  and  mire,  to  the  mouth  of  a  creek,  where  we 
embarked  with  a  couple  of  negroes  in  a  canoe,  and 
were  paddled  into  a  small  river  that  empties  itself 
into  that  of  Savannah.  Again  we  landed,  and 
walked  about  a  mile  to  another  plantation,  of 
which  the  white  people  were  absent,  but  the  ne- 
groes remained.  "  Jee  Chri !  "  exclaimed  a  negro 
wench ;  "  too  much  buckra  come  here  today,  for 
true ! "  Here  we  launched  a  large  canoe,  and 
were  rowed  to  my  companion's  plantation;  din- 
ing on  the  water  in  our  passage  thither.  The 
negroes  of  the  plantation  beheld  the  coming  of 
Mr.  Wilson  with  joy;  old  and  young  of  both 
sexes  came  to  the  landing-place  to  welcome  his 
approach.  The  canoe  was  in  a  moment  run  high 
and  dry  upon  the  beach,  and  the  air  resounded 
with  acclamations. 

We  left  the  plantation  in  a  four-oared  canoe, 
and  were  rowed  with  velocity  up  the  beautiful 
river  of  Savannah.  Quantities  of  alligators  were 
basking  in  the  sun  on  both  shores.  They  brought 
to  my  recollection  the  happy  description  of 
Ariosto : 

122 


Vive  sul  lito,  e  dentro  alia  river  a; 
E  i  corpi  umani  son  le  sue  vivande, 
Delle  persone  misere  edincaute 
Di  viandanti  e  d'  infelice  naute. 

[ARIOSTO.] 

This  animal,  says  the  poet,  lives  on  the  river  and 
its  banks ;  preying  on  human  flesh :  the  bodies  of 
unwary  travellers,  of  passengers,  and  of  sailors. 

We  landed  at  Yamacraw,  the  name  given  by 
the  Indians  to  the  spot  on  which  part  of  Savannah 
is  built ;  and  after  ploughing  through  one  or  two 
streets  of  sand,  we  reached  Dillon's  boarding- 
house,  where  we  were  obligingly  received,  and 
comfortably  accommodated.  There  was  a  large 
party  at  supper,  composed  principally  of  cotton- 
manufacturers  from  Manchester,  whose  con- 
versation operated  on  me  like  a  dose  of  opium. 
Cotton!  cotton!  cotton!  cotton!  was  their  never- 
ceasing  topic.  Oh!  how  many  travellers  would 
have  devoured  up  their  discourse;  for  my  part  I 
fell  asleep,  and  nodded  till  a  negro  offered  to  light 
me  to  my  room. 

Savannah  is  built  on  a  sandy  eminence.  Let 
the  English  reader  picture  to  himself  a  town 
erected  on  the  cliffs  of  Dover,  and  he  will  behold 
Savannah.  But  the  streets  are  so  insupportably 

123 


sandy  that  every  inhabitant  wears  goggles  over 
his  eyes,  which  gives  the  people  an  appearance  of 
being  in  masquerade.  When  the  wind  is  violent 
Savannah  is  a  desert  scene. 

Having  purchased  a  little  edition  of  Mrs. 
Smith's  sonnets,  my  delight  was  to  ascend  the 
eminence  which  commands  the  view  of  the  river, 
and  read  my  book,  undisturbed.  With  my  pencil 
I  wrote  on  my  tablets  the  following  sonnet  to  the 
author : 

SONNET  TO  CHARLOTTE  SMITH 

BLEST  Poetess !  who  tell'st  so  soft  thy  woe, 
I  love  to  ponder  o'er  thy  mournful  lay, 

In  climes  remote,  where  wan,  forlorn  and  slow, 
To  the  wash'd  strand  I  bend  my  listless  way. 

Now,  on  Savannah's  cliffs  I  wayward  read, 
In  joy  of  grief,  thy  pity-moving  strain, 

While  smiles  afar  the  variegated  mead, 
And  not  a  wave  disturbs  the  tranquil  main. 

Like  thee,  the  Muse  has  from  my  infant  hours, 
With  smiles  alluring  won  me  to  the  grove ; 

Snatch'd,  in  a  playful  mood,  some  scatter'd  flow'rs 
To  deck  my  head,  gay  emblems  of  her  love: 

But  mine  of  light,  deceitful  hues  are  made, 

While  thine  of  bloom  perennial  ne'er  will  fade. 
124 


The  nth  of  April  I  returned  with  Mr.  Wil- 
son to  the  woods  of  Coosohatchie,  which,  I 
found  Mr.  Drayton  and  family,  about  to  leave 
to  their  original  tenants  of  raccoons,  squirrels 
and  opossums. 


125 


CHAPTER   IV 

IT  was  in  the  month  of  May,  1799,  that  Mr.  Dray- 
ton  and  his  family  exchanged  the  savage  woods 
of  Coosohatchie  for  the  politer  residence  of  their 
mansion  on  Ashley  River.  In  our  migration  we 
formed  quite  a  procession.  Mr.  Drayton  occu- 
pied the  coach  with  his  lady  and  youngest  daugh- 
ter, and  I  advanced  next  with  my  fair  pupil  in  a 
chair,  followed  by  William  Henry,  on  a  prancing 
nag,  and  half  a  dozen  negro  fellows,  indifferently 
mounted,  but  wearing  the  laced  livery  of  an  opu- 
lent master.  Thus  hemmed  in  by  the  coach  be- 
fore, a  troop  of  horsemen  behind,  and  impene- 
trable woods  on  both  sides,  I  could  not  refrain 
from  whispering  in  the  ear  of  my  companion  that 
her  friends  had  put  it  out  of  my  power  to  run 
away  with  her  that  day. 

About  three  in  the  afternoon,  our  journey  being 
suspended  by  the  heat  of  the  weather,  we  stopped 

to  eat  a  cold  dinner,  in  a  kind  of  lodge  that  had 

126 


been  erected  by  some  hunters  on  the  roadside, 
and  which  now  hospitably  accommodated  a  fam- 
ily travelling  through  the  woods.  Here  we  took 
possession  of  the  benches  round  the  table  to  enjoy 
our  repast:  turning  the  horses  loose  to  seek  the 
shade;  and  cooling  our  wine  in  a  spring  that 
murmured  near  the  spot.  William  Henry,  having 
snatched  a  morsel,  got  ready  his  fowling-piece, 
to  penetrate  the  woods  in  search  of  wild  turkeys ; 
and  while  we  were  rallying  him  on  his  passion 
for  shooting,  the  cry  from  a  negro  of  a  rattle- 
snake !  disturbed  our  tranquillity.  The  snake  was 
soon  visible  to  every  eye,  dragging  its  slow  length 
along  the  root  of  a  large  tree,  and  directing  its 
attention  to  a  bird,  which  chattered  and  fluttered 
from  above,  and  seemed  irresistibly  disposed  to 
fall  into  its  distended  jaws.  London,  a  negro  ser- 
vant, had  snatched  up  a  log,  and  was  advancing 
to  strike  the  monster  a  blow  in  the  head,  when  a 
blacksnake,  hastening  furiously  to  the  spot,  im- 
mediately gave  battle  to  the  rattlesnake,  and  sus- 
pended, by  his  unexpected  appearance,  the  power 
of  the  negro's  arm.  We  now  thought  we  had  got 
into  a  nest  of  snakes,  and  the  girls  were  scream- 
ing with  fright,  when  William  Henry,  taking  an 

127 


unerring  aim  with  his  gun,  shot  the  rattle- 
snake, in  the  act  of  repulsing  his  enemy.  The 
blacksnake,  without  a  moment's  procrastination, 
returned  into  the  woods,  and  profiting  by  his  ex- 
ample, we  all  pursued  our  journey,  except  Wil- 
liam Henry,  who  stopped  with  a  negro  to  take  out 
the  rattles  of  the  monster  he  had  killed.  My  pupil 
presented  me  with  these  rattles,  which  I  carried 
for  three  years  in  my  pocket,  and  finally  gave 
them  to  the  son  of  a  Mr.  Andrews,  of  Warmin- 
ster,  who  had  emigrated  to  Baltimore,  and  had 
been  to  me  singularly  obliging.1 

1  Much  has  been  said  by  travellers  of  the  fascinating 
power  of  snakes  in  America.  Credat  Judaeus  Apella! 
Things  are  best  illustrated  by  comparison.  It  is  known 
to  almost  every  man  who  has  not  passed  his  days  in  the 
smoke  of  London,  Salisbury,  or  Bristol,  but,  incited  by 
the  desire  of  knowledge,  has  made  a  tour  into  the  country, 
that  birds  will  flutter  their  wings,  and  exhibit  the  utmost 
agitation,  at  the  approach  of  a  fox  near  a  tree  on  which 
they  are  perched.  Filled  with  the  same  dread,  a  bird  in 
America  cannot  refrain  from  fluttering  over  a  snake ;  and 
the  American  snakes,  however  inferior  in  cunning  to  the 
English  foxes,  being  endued  with  more  perseverance,  fear 
deprives  the  bird  of  motion,  and  it  falls  into  his  jaws. 
It  is  by  thus  tracing  effects  to  their  causes  that  truth  is 
promulgated;  and  hence  I  am  enabled  to  detect  and 
expose  the  fallaciousness  of  the  opinion  that  there  is  any 
charm  or  fascination  in  the  eye  of  a  snake. 

128 


The  garden  of  Mr.  Drayton's  mansion  led  to 
the  bank  of  Ashley  River,  which,  after  a  rapid 
course  of  twenty  miles,  discharged  itself  into  the 
Atlantic.  The  river  was  not  wanting  in  pictur- 
esqueness,  and,  once,  while  stretched  at  my  ease 
on  its  banks,  I  meditated  an  ode. 

ODE  ON  ASHLEY  RIVER 

ON  gentle  Ashley's  winding  flood, 

Enjoying  philosophic  rest ; 
I  court  the  calm,  umbrageous  wood, 

No  more  with  baleful  care  opprest. 

Or,  on  its  banks  supinely  laid, 
The  distant  mead  and  field  survey, 

Where  branching  laurels  form  a  shade 
To  keep  me  from  the  solar  ray. 

While  flows  the  limpid  stream  along, 

With  quick  meanders  through  the  grove, 

And  from  each  bird  is  heard  the  song 
Of  careless  gaiety  and  love. 

And  when  the  moon,  with  lustre  bright, 
Around  me  throws  her  silver  beam, 

I  catch  new  transport  from  the  sight, 
And  view  her  shadow  in  the  stream. 

While  whippoorwill  repeats  his  tale, 
That  echoes  from  the  boundless  plain ; 

And  blithesome  from  the  passing  gale 
The  mocking-bird  pours  out  his  strain. 
129 


Hence  with  a  calm,  contented  mind, 
Sweet  pleasure  comes  without  alloy; 

Our  own  felicity  we  find  — 
'T  is  from  the  heart  springs  genuine  joy. 

An  elder  brother  of  Mr.  Drayton  was  our 
neighbour  on  the  river ;  he  occupied,  perhaps,  the 
largest  house  and  gardens  in  the  United  States 
of  America.  Indeed  I  was  now  breathing  the 
politest  atmosphere  in  America ;  for  our  constant 
visitants  were  the  highest  people  in  the  State,  and 
possessed  of  more  house  servants  than  there  are 
inhabitants  at  Occoquan.  These  people  never 
moved  but  in  a  carriage,  lolled  on  sofas  instead 
of  sitting  on  chairs,  and  were  always  attended 
by  their  negroes  to  fan  them  with  a  peacock's 
feather. 

From  Ashley  River,  after  a  short  residence,  we 
removed  to  Charleston,  which  was  full  of  visitors 
from  the  woods,  and  exhibited  a  motley  scene. 
Here  was  to  be  perceived  a  coachee,  without  a 
glass  to  exclude  the  dust,  driven  by  a  black  fel- 
low, not  less  proud  of  the  livery  of  luxury  than 
the  people  within  the  vehicle  were  of  a  suit  made 
in  the  fashion.  There  was  to  be  discovered  a 

Carolinian  buck,  who  had  left  off  essences  and 

130 


powder,  and,  in  what  related  to  his  hair,  resembled 
an  ancient  Roman;  but  in  the  distribution  of 
his  dress  was  just  introducing  that  fashion  in 
Charleston  which  was  giving  way  in  succession 
to  another  in  London.  But  he  had  an  advantage 
over  his  transatlantic  rival;  he  not  only  owned 
the  horse  he  rode,  but  the  servant  who  followed. 
To  be  brief,  such  is  the  pride  of  the  people  of 
Charleston  that  no  person  is  seen  on  foot  unless 
it  be  a  mechanic  or  some  mechanical  tutor.  He 
who  is  without  horses  and  slaves  incurs  always 
contempt.  The  consideration  of  property  has 
such  an  empire  over  the  mind  that  poverty  and 
riches  are  contemplated  through  the  medium  of 
infamy  and  virtue.  Even  negroes  are  infected 
with  this  idea;  and  Cuffey  shall  be  heard  to  ex- 
claim, "  He  great  blackguard  that ;  he  got  no 
negur.  Where  his  horse  ?  He  alway  walk." 

I  found  my  friend  Doctor  de  Bow  in  high  re- 
pute at  Charleston,  and  not  without  the  hope  that 
he  should  soon  keep  his  carriage.  Scribimus 
indocti  doctique.  He  was  busy  in  writing  a  piece 
for  the  Medical  Repository  at  New  York;  that 
is,  he  was  communicating  his  thoughts  in  a  letter 
to  the  great  Doctor  Mitchel.  His  object  was  to 


undermine  the  fame  of  the  Charleston  physicians 
by  exposing  the  impropriety  of  their  treatment  in 
the  croup;  a  complaint  commonly  prevalent  in 
the  southern  States  of  the  Union.  "  This  trea- 
tise," whispered  the  doctor,  "  will  make  me  be 
called  in  to  children;  and  if  I  once  get  the  child 
for  a  patient,  I  shall  soon  have  the  parents.  Oh ! 
that  I  could  only  express  my  thoughts  on  paper ! 
I  would  carry  everything  before  me.  But  writing 
and  talking  require  very  different  qualifications. 
Impudence  will  make  an  orator ;  but  to  write  well 
requires  reading  digested  by  reflection." 

The  doctor  entreated  I  would  lend  him  my 
assistance  to  write  his  Essay  on  the  Croup.  I 
begged  to  be  excused,  by  professing  my  utter 
unacquaintance  with  the  mode  of  treating  the 
disease. 

"  No  matter,"  said  the  doctor.  "  How  to  treat 
the  disease  no  man  knows  better  than  I ;  but  treat- 
ing it  and  writing  a  treatise  on  it  are  things  widely 
different.  Come !  let  me  dictate  to  you  the  heads 
of  the  discourse,  and  do  you  lengthify  and  ramify 
them  secundum  artem  into  a  treatise.  Quote  a 
good  deal  of  Latin,  and  dignify  your  style  with  all 

the  hard  words  you  can  remember.    But  let  the 

132 


title  be  powerful ;  let  it  smite  the  eye  of  the  reader 
with  irresistible  force.  For  the  Medical  Reposi- 
tory! New,  but  unanswerable  objections  against 
the  present  mode  of  treating  the  croup,  by  the 
physicians  of  Charleston;  communicated  in  a 
letter  to  Dr.  Mitchel,  by  W.  de  Bow,  M.D.  Nul- 
lius  addictus  jurare  in  verba  magistri! " 

"  Bravo,"  cried  I.  "And  now  doctor  for  a  few 
words  of  introduction  to  the  philippic." 

"  That,  sir,  you  shall  have ;  I  never  could  en- 
dure a  play  without  a  prologue.  Why,  say  (but 
write  the  first  word  in  capitals),  Physicians,  how- 
ever they  may  be  established  and  in  vogue,  are 
yet  liable  to  be  mistaken  in  their  prognostics  and 
diagnostics.  Humanum  est  errare! " 

The  doctor  was  here  interrupted  by  a  negro 
boy,  who  called  him  to  attend  his  master  in  the 
last  stage  of  the  yellow  fever.  The  doctor  imme- 
diately slipped  on  a  black  coat,  put  his  enormous 
spectacles  on  his  nose,  and  snatching  up  his  gold- 
headed  cane,  followed  the  negro  down  stairs. 

Having  leisure  for  some  literary  undertaking, 
I  issued  a  prospectus  for  the  publication  of  Two 
Voyages  to  the  East  Indies.  The  work  was  to  be 
comprised  in  an  octavo  volume,  and  delivered  to 


subscribers  for  two  dollars.  Mr.  Drayton,  with- 
out hesitation,  subscribed  for  ten  copies;  and  in 
a  few  weeks  I  could  boast  a  long  list  of  sub- 
scribers from  the  circles  of  fashion.  Shortly 
after,  the  Farmer's  Museum,1  published  in  New 
Hampshire,  was  found  to  contain  a  curious  notice 
on  the  subject :  "  The  translator  of  Buonaparte's 
Campaign,  whose  poetry  we  have  praised  in  a 
former  Museum,  has  issued  a  subscription-paper 
for  the  publication  of  Two  Voyages  to  the  East 
Indies.  From  the  genius  of  this  gentleman  we 
have  the  strongest  reason  to  conclude  that  his 
work  will  be  a  pleasing  production.  But  these 
are  costermonger  times  for  his  book,  and  ere  the 
date  of  fresh  literary  disappointment  begin,  he 
should  remember  that  if  in  any  of  the  peddling 
streets  of  Charleston,  Philadelphia,  Boston,  or 
New  York,  he  were  to  expose  for  sale  a  single 
bale  of  gurrahs,  or  a  hummum,  it  would  advance 
his  fortune  and  reputation  more  than  by  writing 
volumes  of  instructive  or  amusing  narrative. 
We  wish  this  writer  success ;  to  ensure  it,  let  him 

1  Farmer's  Weekly  Museum.  Founded  in  1790,  at 
Walpole,  N.  H.  Dennie  became  editor  in  1796.  The 
publisher  became  bankrupt  in  1798. 

134 


direct  his  bookseller  to  make  a  shipment  to  Eng- 
land of  the  whole  impression." 

It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  this  encomium  of 
Mr.  Dennie  promoted  or  retarded  the  subscrip- 
tion to  the  volume;  but  it  was  of  little  conse- 
quence; for,  notwithstanding  my  friend  George 
wrote  a  poetical  epistle  for  the  work,  I  contented 
myself  with  abridging  it  for  my  own  amusement. 

To  avoid  the  fever,  which  every  summer  com- 
mits its  ravages  at  Charleston,  Mr.  Drayton  re- 
moved with  his  family,  in  July,  to  a  convenient 
house  on  Sullivan's  Island.  The  front  windows 
commanded  a  view  of  the  Atlantic,  whose  waves 
broke  with  fury  not  a  hundred  yards  from  the 
door.  It  is  almost  superfluous  to  observe  that  Sul- 
livan's Island  lies  opposite  to  Charleston,  at  the  dis- 
tance of  eight  miles.  Passage-boats  are  always  to 
be  procured  from  Sullivan's  Island  to  Charleston, 
and  I  was  introduced  by  my  friend  to  an  Irish 
clergyman,  of  the  name  of  Best,  who  was  attached 
to  Mr.  George,  partly  from  his  being  an  Irishman, 
and  partly  from  esteem  for  his  attainments.  Mr. 
Best  communicated  to  me  a  few  anecdotes  rela- 
tive to  Goldsmith,  which  I  minuted  down  in  his 
presence. 


"  The  Deserted  Village"  said  he,  "  relates  to 
scenes  in  which  Goldsmith  was  an  actor.  Auburn 
is  a  poetical  name  for  the  village  of  Lissoy,  in  the 
county  of  Westmeath  Barony,  Kilkenny  West. 
The  name  of  the  schoolmaster  was  Paddy  Burns. 
I  remember  him  well.  He  was  indeed  a  man 
severe  to  view.  A  woman  called  Walsey  Cruse 
kept  the  alehouse. 

Imagination  fondly  stoops  to  trace 

The  parlour  splendours  of  that  festive  place.1 

I  have  been  often  in  the  house.  The  hawthorn- 
bush  was  remarkably  large,  and  stood  opposite 
the  alehouse.  I  was  once  riding  with  Brady,  titu- 
lar Bishop  of  Ardagh,  when  he  observed  to  me, 
'  Ma  foy,  Best,  this  huge,  overgrown  bush  is 
mightily  in  the  way;  I  will  order  it  to  be  cut 

1  Near  yonder  thorn,  that  lifts  its  head  on  high, 
Where  once  the  sign-post  caught  the  passing  eye, 
Low    lies    that   house    where    nut-brown    draughts 

inspired, 

Where  gray-beard  mirth  and  smiling  toil  retired, 
Where  village  statesmen  talked,  with  looks  profound, 
And  news  much  older  than  their  ale  went  round. 
Imagination  fondly  stoops  to  trace 
The  parlour  splendours  of  that  festive  place. 

Goldsmith :   The  Deserted  Village. 

136 


down/  'What,  sir/  said  I,  'cut  down  Gold- 
smith's hawthorn-bush,  that  supplies  so  beautiful 
an  image  in  the  Deserted  Village! '  '  Ma  f oy ! ' 
exclaimed  the  bishop, '  is  that  the  hawthorn-bush ! 
Then  ever  let  it  be  sacred  to  the  edge  of  the  axe, 
and  evil  to  him  that  would  cut  from  it  a  branch/  " 
No  families  are  more  migratory  than  those  of 
Carolina.  From  Sullivan's  Island  we  went  again 
to  the  mansion  on  Ashley  River,  where  I  had  in- 
vitations to  hunt,  to  feast  and  to  dance.  But 
nothing  could  soothe  the  despondency  I  felt  on  the 
approaching  return  of  Mr.  Drayton  to  the  woods 
of  Coosohatchie.  He  guessed  the  cause  of  my 
woebegone  looks,  and,  rather  than  be  deprived 
of  my  services,  politely  offered  to  pass  the  winter 
on  the  banks  of  Ashley  River.  Nay,  he  even  pro- 
posed to  send  his  son,  when  the  war  terminated, 
to  make  with  me  the  tour  of  the  continent  of 
Europe.  There  are  few  men  that  in  my  situation 
would  have  resisted  such  allurements;  but  I 
dreaded  the  tainted  atmosphere  that  had  dis- 
patched so  many  of  my  countrymen  to  the  house 
appointed  for  all  living;  and,  filled  with  appre- 
hension, I  left  this  charming  family,  in  whose 
bosom  I  had  been  so  kindly  cherished,  to  seek 


another  climate,  and  brave  again  the  rigours  of 
adversity.1 

The  fifteenth  of  December,  1799,  I  rode  from 
Ashley  River  to  Charleston,  with  the  design  of 
proceeding  to  Georgetown,  and  visiting  the  aca- 
demic bowers  of  my  friend.  I  had  again  deter- 
mined to  travel  on  foot,  and  enjoy  the  meditations 

1  The  mortality  among  foreigners  during  the  summer 
months,  at  Charleston,  is  incredibly  great.  Few  Euro- 
peans escape  that  plague  of  plagues,  the  yellow  fever. 
The  attack  is  always  sudden,  and  lays  hold  of  the  strong- 
est. He  whose  veins  glowed  but  yesterday  with  health 
shall  today  be  undergoing  the  agonies  of  the  damned. 
The  temporal  arteries  of  the  wretched  victim  are  ready 
to  burst;  black  vomiting  ensues;  the  skin  turns  yellow; 
the  man  so  lately  rioting  in  lustihood,  is  without  the 
strength  of  the  child,  and,  his  tongue  lolling  out,  he  dies 
delirious. 

What  now  avail 

The  strong-built,  sinewy  limbs,  and  well-spread  shoulders  ? 
See  how  he  tugs  for  life,  and  lays  about  him, 
Mad  with  his  pains ! 

Oh !  how  his  eyes  stand  out,  and  stare  full  ghastly ! 
Whilst  the  distemper's  rank  and  deadly  venom 
Shoots  like  a  burning  arrow  'cross  his  bowels, 
And  drinks  his  marrow  up.    Heard  you  that  groan? 
It  was  his  last.    See  how  the  great  Goliath, 
Just  like  a  child  that  brawl'd  itself  to  rest, 
Lies  still. 

Blair:  The  Grave. 

138 


produced  from  walking  and  smoking  amidst  the 
awful  solitude  of  the  woods.  Having  provided 
myself  with  a  pouch  of  Havannah  segars,  and  put 
a  poem  into  my  pocket,  which  Mr.  George  had 
composed  over  the  grave  of  a  stranger  on  the 
road,  I  crossed  the  ferry  at  Cooper's  River,  and 
began  my  journey  from  a  spot  that  retains  the 
aboriginal  name  of  Hobcaw. 

In  travelling  through  an  endless  track  of  pines, 
a  man  can  find  few  objects  to  describe,  but  he  may 
have  some  reflections  to  deliver.  I  was  journey- 
ing through  endless  forests,  that,  once  inhabited 
by  numerous  races  of  Indians,  were  now  without 
any  individual  of  their  original  possessors;  for 
the  diseases  and  luxuries  introduced  by  the  colo- 
nist had  exterminated  the  greater  number,  and 
the  few  wretches  that  survived  had  sought  a  new 
country  beyond  the  rivers  and  mountains.  For 
the  first  fifteen  miles  of  my  journey  I  encountered 
no  human  being  but  a  wayfaring  German;  and 
heard  no  sound  but  that  of  the  woodpecker,1  and 

1  The  woodpecker  of  Carolina,  in  striking  his  beak 
against  a  tree,  makes  a  quick,  sharp  noise,  which  he  keeps 
up  for  some  time  by  repetition.  An  emigrant  planter,  on 
first  hearing  it,  was  terrified  beyond  measure;  and  ran, 

139 


the  noise  of  the  negro's  axe  felling  trees.  There 
was  no  other  object  to  employ  the  sight,  and  no 
other  noise  to  disturb  the  repose  of  the  desert.  I 
supped  and  slept  at  a  solitary  tavern  kept  by 
young  Mr.  Dubusk,  whose  three  sisters  might 
have  sat  to  a  painter  for  the  Graces.  Delicate 
were  their  shapes,  transparent  their  skins,  and 
the  fire  of  their  eyes  drove  the  traveller  to  mad- 
ness. Finding  my  young  landlord  companion- 
able, I  asked  him  why  he  did  not  pull  down  the 
sign  of  General  Washington  that  was  over  his 
door,  and  put  up  the  portrait  of  his  youngest 
sister.  "That,"  said  he,  "would  be  a  want  of 
modesty;  and,  besides,  if  Jemima  is  really  hand- 
some she  can  want  no  effigy;  for  good  wine,  as 
we  landlords  say,  needs  no  bush." 

Mr.  Dubusk  was  a  mighty  great  dancer.  In- 
deed, he  would  frequently  fall  a  capering,  uncon- 
scious of  being  observed.  But  he  swore  he  would 
dance  no  more  in  the  daytime,  because  it  was  un- 
genteel.  We  drew  our  chairs  near  the  fire  after 
supper,  when  Mr.  Dubusk  did  his  utmost  to  en- 
tertain me.  He  related  that,  only  a  few  nights 

pale  and  quaking,  to  his  house,  calling  out,  "  A  rattle- 
snake !  oh,  a  rattlesnake !  " 

140 


before,  some  sparks  had  put  a  black  pudding  into 
his  bed,  which,  by  the  moonlight  through  his  win- 
dow, his  apprehension  magnified  into  a  black- 
snake,  and  made  him  roar  out  Murder ! 

:t  What,"  cried  I,  "  can  you,  who  are  a  native 
of  Carolina,  be  afraid  of  a  snake?  "  "  Not,"  said 
he,  "  if  I  meet  him  on  the  road,  or  in  the  woods. 
I  wish  I  had  as  many  acres  of  land  as  I  have 
killed  rattlesnakes  in  this  country.  My  planta- 
tion would  be  a  wide  one."  —  Mr.  Dubusk  was 
somewhat  of  a  wag.  Being  called  on  after  sup- 
per to  sing  the  patriotic  song  of  Hail  Columbia, 
he  parodied  it  with  much  drollery : 

Hail  Columbia!  happy  land! 
Full  of  pines  and  burning  sand ! 

At  this  I  was  surprised,  for  Hail  Columbia  exacts 
not  less  reverence  in  America  than  the  Marseil- 
laise Hymn  in  France,  and  Rule  Britannia  in 
England. 

Before  I  quit  the  subject  of  Mr.  Dubusk  I  will 
mention  a  delicacy  of  conduct  which  I  could  not 
but  remark  in  him,  and  which  I  record  for  the 
imitation  of  American  planters.  Having  thought- 
lessly chastised  a  negro  boy  in  the  room,  he  apol- 

141 


ogized  for  doing  it  before  me;  a  circumstance 
which  verified  the  observation  that  good  breeding 
is  the  natural  result  of  good  sense. 

The  next  morning,  Mr.  Dubusk  walked  with  me 
a  few  miles  on  my  road ;  but  my  companion  hav- 
ing business  at  a  plantation  in  the  woods,  I  was 
soon  left  to  pursue  my  journey  alone  through  the 
sand.  My  sight  was  still  bounded  by  the  same 
prospect  as  ever.  I  could  only  distinguish  before 
me  a  road  that  seemed  endless,  and  mossy  forests 
on  each  border  of  it.  An  European  gazes  with 
wonder  at  the  long  and  beautiful  moss  that, 
spreading  itself  from  the  branches  of  one  tree 
to  those  of  another,  extends  through  whole  for- 
ests.1 It  was  now  eight  in  the  morning.  The 
weather  was  mild,  and  I  walked  vigourously 
forward, 

Chewing  the  cud  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy. 

At  Darr's  tavern  I  found  nobody  but  a  negro 
woman  who  was  suckling  her  child  and  quieting 

1  This  moss,  when  it  becomes  dead,  serves  many  useful 
purposes.  The  negroes  carry  it  to  Charleston,  where  it 
is  bought  to  stuff  mattresses  and  chair-bottoms.  The 
hunters  always  use  it  for  wadding  to  their  guns. 

142 


its  clamours  by  appropriating,  instead  of  a  com- 
mon rattle,  the  rattles  of  a  snake.  I  would  have 
much  rather  heard  her  jingle  the  keys  of  the  cup- 
board in  the  child's  ears;  but,  unfortunately  for 
me,  Mr.  Darr  was  gone  out  and  had  taken  the 
keys  with  him.  I  was,  therefore,  glad  to  obtain  a 
plate  of  mush1  which,  having  eaten  sans  milk, 
sans  sugar  and  even  sans  molasses,  I  gave  the 
good  woman  a  piece  of  silver  and  again  pursued 
my  journey. 

A  walk  of  eight  more  miles  brought  me  to 
Owendaw  bridge.  About  nightfall  I  reached  Mr. 
MacGregor's  tavern,  of  which  the  proximity  was 
announced  by  the  axe  of  the  negro  chopping 
wood.  No  sound  can  be  more  delightful  than  this 
to  the  foot-traveller  in  America,  when  night  has 
cast  its  shadows  over  the  face  of  the  country.  It 
not  only  informs  him  that  he  is  near  some  human 
habitation,  but  associates  the  welcome  image  of 
a  warm  fireside,  and  an  invigourating  supper. 

The  house  of  Mr.  MacGregor  was  agreeably 
situated  on  the  Santee  River ;  it  was  filled  with  the 
planters  and  young  women  from  the  neighbour- 
ing woods,  who  had  assembled  to  celebrate  their 
1  Indian  meal  boiled. 
143 


Christmas  festival;  for  it  was,  I  discovered,  the 
anniversary  of  the  day  that  gave  birth  to  our 
Redeemer.  Strange  that  I  should  regard  time 
so  little  as  not  to  know  that  its  inaudible  and 
noiseless  feet  had  stolen  through  another  year! 

The  party  was,  however,  taking  time  by  the 
forelock.  They  had  formed  a  dance,  but  could 
not  begin  it  for  want  of  their  musician,  whom 
they  expected  with  impatience.  "  Curse  that 
Orpheus !  "  exclaimed  one  of  the  young  men  who 
held  by  the  hand  a  little  girl  of  true  virginal 
beauty,  with  fair  hair  floating  over  her  shoulders ; 
"  Curse  that  Orpheus ! "  said  he.  "  I  '11  lay  you  * 
he  has  got  drunk  again  and  has  lost  himself  in 
the  woods." 

It  was  not  long  before  Orpheus  made  his  ap- 
pearance in  the  shape  of  an  old  Guiana  negro, 
scraping  discord  on  a  fiddle,  reeling  about  from 
side  to  side  and  grinning  in  the  pride  of  his  heart. 
Each  man  now  seized  his  partner,  Orpheus  struck 
up  a  jig,  and  down  the  dance  went  Jack  and  Bar- 
bara with  light,  though  untutored  steps.  Not 
being  for  any  of  their  ambling,  and  finding  that, 

1  Phrase  of  frequent  occurrence  among  the  southern 
Americans. 

144 


amidst  such  riot,  no  sleep  was  to  be  had,  I  sum- 
moned a  negro  and  was  paddled  in  a  canoe 
through  Push-and-go  Creek  to  the  opposite  bank 
of  the  Santee  River. 

In  about  half  an  hour  I  reached  a  solitary  mud- 
hut  which  stood  adjoining  a  wood.  A  little  smoke 
rose  from  the  chimney,  but  not  a  mouse  was  stir- 
ring near  the  dwelling.  But  from  the  woods  was 
heard  the  cry  of  the  whippoorwill  and  the  croak- 
ing of  the  bullfrogs.  I  peeped  through  a  chink 
in  the  wall  of  this  lonely  hut.  I  soon  discovered 
it  was  the  habitation  of  Old  Billy  and  Billy's  old 
wife.  I  could  distinguish  an  old  negro  man  and 
negro  woman  huddled  together,  like  Darby  and 
Joan,  before  the  embers  of  an  expiring  fire,  and 
passing  from  one  to  another  the  stump  of  an  old 
pipe.  I  tapped  at  the  door.  "  Please  God  Al- 
mighty ! "  said  the  old  woman,  "  who  knock  at 
our  door  this  time  of  night  ?  Why,  I  thought  no- 
body was  awake  but  whippoorwill !  " 

"  Open  the  door,"  said  the  old  man,  very 
calmly,  "  'T  is  mayhap  some  negur  man  has  run 
away  and  has  now  come  out  of  the  woods  to  beg 
a  hoe-cake  or  a  bit  of  hominy." 

"  Lackaday !     You  don't  say  so,"  replied  the 


old  woman.  "  Some  poor  runaway  without  a  bit 
of  victuals  to  keep  life  and  soul  together.  Well ! 
There 's  a  whole  hoe-cake  in  the  platter.  That 's 
lucky,  for  true ! " 

The  old  woman  came  to  the  door,  but  starting 
back  on  beholding  me,  exclaimed,  "  Hie !  This 
not  negur !  This  one  gentleman !  " 

Let  my  page  record  the  hospitality  of  this  poor 
black  woman  and  her  husband.  They  proffered 
me  their  provisions  and  helped  me  to  the  sweetest 
draught  of  water  I  ever  remember  to  have  drunk. 
They  proposed  to  spread  a  blanket  for  me  before 
the  fire  and  supply  me  out  of  their  garments 
with  a  pillow  for  my  head.  In  a  word,  though 
their  faces  were  black,  their  hearts  were  not 
insensible. 

I  could  not  overcome  my  prejudices.  I  felt  the 
fulness  of  their  humanity;  but  my  heart  har- 
boured that  pride  which  courted  the  rigours  of 
the  night  rather  than  descend  to  become  the  guest 
of  an  African  slave.  I  declined  their  offer  with 
acknowledgments,  and  prosecuted  my  walk  into 
the  woods. 

I  had  walked  about  three  miles,  lighted  forward 
by  the  moon  and  admonished  of  the  lateness  of 

146 


the  hour  by  the  appearance  of  the  morning  star, 
when  the  barking  of  dogs  and  the  voices  of  men 
at  a  distance  filled  me  with  the  hope  that  I  was 
approaching  some  village.  My  heart  caught  new 
pleasure  and  I  redoubled  my  pace;  but  in  a  few 
minutes,  instead  of  entering  a  village,  I  found 
myself  among  a  crowd  of  waggons  and  wag- 
goners, who,  having  their  journey  suspended  by 
a  run  of  water  which  had  overflowed  its  banks, 
were  preparing  to  encamp  on  the  side  of  the  road. 
Of  these  some  were  backing  their  waggons,  some 
unharnessing  their  cattle  and  some  kindling  a  fire. 
A  walk  of  about  ten  miles  brought  me  within 
sight  of  Georgetown  which  exhibited  an  agree- 
able coup  d'oeil  as  I  approached  the  bank  of  the 
Sampit  River.  The  opening  of  Waccamaw  bay, 
at  the  confluence  of  the  Sampit,  Black  and  Pedee 
Rivers,  brought  to  my  mind  the  happy  description 
which  my  friend  Mr.  George  had  given  the  world 
of  it;  who  is  not  less  exact  than  felicitous  in  the 
combination  of  his  images: 

Here  as  you  enter  from  the  winding  wood, 
The  wand'ring  eye  beholds  the  confluent  flood, 
Where  the  wide  waves  of  Waccamaw  o'erflow, 
And  gloomy  wilds  an  endless  prospect  shew : 
Where  roll  the  placid  streams  from  Sampit's  source, 


And  Winyaw's  waves  with  slow  meanders  course, 
Through  many  a  tainted  marsh  and  gloomy  wood, 
The  dark  abodes  of  dreary  solitude. 

I  felt  no  little  exultation  in  reflecting  that  it 
was  the  author  of  this  description  whom  I  was 
about  to  visit ;  that  he  expected  with  solicitude  my 
coming  and  that  I  should  be  received  by  him  with 
transports.     I  crossed  the  Sampit  River  in  the 
ferryboat  and  rejoiced  to  find  myself  in  the  com- 
pany of  my  friend.    But  I  did  not  find  him  at  his 
studies.    Mr.  George  was  neither  composing  the 
Maeonian  verse,  the  plaintive  elegy  nor  soothing 
sonnet.    In  profane  prose,  he  was  at  dinner,  and 
such  was  the  unclassical  condition  of  my  appetite 
from  a  walk  of  fourteen  miles,  that  a  welcome  to 
a  turkey  and  chine  was  greater  music  to  my  ear 
than  the  softest  verses  my  friend  could  have 
produced  from  his  invocations  of  the  morning. 
Mr.  George  had  a  supreme  contempt  for  Ameri- 
can genius  and  American  literature.    In  a  sport- 
ive mood,  he  would  ask  me  whether  I  did  not 
think  that  it  was  some  physical  cause  in  the  air 
which  denied  existence  to  a  poet  on  American 
ground.     "  No  snake,"  said  he,  "  exists  in  Ire- 
land, and  no  poet  can  be  found  in  America." 

148 


"  You  are  too  severe,"  said  I,  "  in  your  stric- 
tures. This  country,  as  a  native  author  observes, 
can  furnish  her  quota  of  poets." 

"  Name,  will  you,  one  ?  " 

"  Is  not  Dwight  a  candidate  for  the  epic  crown  ? 
Is  he,  sir,  not  a  poet?  " 

"  I  think  not.  He  wants  imagination  and  he 
also  wants  judgment.  Sir,  he  makes  the  shield 
of  Joshua  to  mock  the  rising  sun." 

"  Is  not  Barlow  a  poet?  Is  not  his  Vision  of 
Columbus  a  fine  poem  ?  " 

"  The  opening  is  elevated,  the  rest  is  read  with- 
out emotion." 

"  What  think  you  of  Freneau  ?  " 

"  Freneau  has  one  good  ode :  Happy  the  Man 
who  Safe  on  Shore.  But  he  is  voluminous,  and 
this  ode  may  be  likened  to  the  grain  in  the  bushel 
of  chaff." 

"  What  is  your  opinion  of  Trumbull  ?  " 

"  He  can  only  claim  the  merit  of  being  a  skilful 
imitator." 

"  Well,  what  think  you  of  Humphreys  ?  "  1 

1  Humphreys,  David,  a  soldier  of  the  Revolution,  who 
wrote  patriotic  and  martial  poetry  in  the  camp,  the  friend 
and  household  companion  of  Washington;  was  born  in 

149 


"  Sir,  his  mind  is  neither  ductile  to  sentiment, 
nor  is  his  ear  susceptible  of  harmony." 

"What  opinion  do  you  entertain  of  Honey- 
wood?"1 

"I  have  read  some  of  his  wretched  rhymes. 
The  bees,  as  it  is  fabled  of  Pindar,  never  sucked 
honey  from  his  lips." 

"  Of  the  existence  of  an  American  poet,  I  per- 
ceive, sir,  your  mind  is  rather  sceptical,  but  I 
hope  you  will  allow  that  America  abounds  with 
good  prose." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  then,  mind  me,  it  is  imported 
from  the  shores  of  Great  Britain." 

"  Oh,  monstrous !  Is  not  Dennie  a  good  prose- 
writer  ?  " 

"  Sir,  the  pleasure  that  otherwise  I  should  find 

Derby,  Conn.,  in  1752.     He  was  educated  at  Yale  Col- 
lege.   He  died  at  New  Haven,  February  21,  1818. 

Duyckinck. 

1  Honeywood.  "  Nor  were  our  New  York  publishers 
lukewarm  at  the  printing  of  elaborate  works  of  grave 
import  and  scholastic  value.  If,  however,  we  except  the 
poems  of  Freneau  and  the  reprint  of  Burns,  we  find 
little  in  the  region  of  the  muses  that  issued  from 
the  press ;  Clifton,  Honeywood,  Low  and  Linn,  were  our 
prominent  domestic  poets."  —  Francis:  Old  New  York, 
P-  345- 

150 


in  Dennie  is  soon  accompanied  with  satiety  by  his 
unexampled  quaintness." 

"Of  Brown,  sir,  what  is  your  opinion?" 

'  The  style  of  Brown,  sir,  is  chastised,  and  he 
is  scrupulously  pure.  But  nature  has  utterly  dis- 
qualified him  for  subjects  of  humour.  Whenever 
he  endeavours  to  bring  forth  humour  the  off- 
spring of  his  throes  are  weakness  and  deformity. 
Whenever  he  attempts  humour  he  inspires  the 
benevolent  with  pity,  and  fills  the  morose  with 
indignation." 

"  What  think  you  of  the  style  of  Johnson,  the 
reviewer  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  English  that  he  writes,  sir,  it  is 
American.  His  periods  are  accompanied  by  a 
yell  that  is  scarcely  less  dismal  than  the  war- 
whoop  of  a  Mohawk." 

Georgetown  is  built  on  the  south  bank  of  the 
Sampit  River;  the  houses  are  handsome  and  the 
little  streets  intersect  each  other  at  right  angles. 
But  so  lovely  are  the  women  that,  had  this  place 
existed  in  an  age  of  antiquity,  it  would  not  have 
been  said  that  Venus  fixed  her  abode  at  Cytherea. 

The  academy  at  Georgetown  is  under  the  direc- 
tion of  Mr.  Spierin,  an  Irish  clergyman  of  the 


Episcopal  persuasion:  a  man  profoundly  versed 
in  the  languages  of  Greece  and  Rome,  not  uncon- 
versant  with  the  delicacies  of  the  English,  and  a 
powerful  preacher. 

That  traveller  has  little  acquaintance  with  the 
policy  of  literature,  and  estimates  but  lightly  the 
power  of  his  page,  who  speaks  indiscriminately 
of  every  individual  with  whom  he  has  eaten  a 
meal  or  caroused  over  a  bowl.  I  have  been 
feasted  and  caressed  by  many  of  my  friends,  at 
New  York,  Philadelphia,  Baltimore  and  Wash- 
ington, who,  knowing  that  I  contemplated  to  pub- 
lish a  narrative,  did  me  the  honour  to  desire  a 
niche  in  my  work.  But  of  such  characters  what 
could  I  record?  It  surely  could  give  the  reader 

no  satisfaction  to  be  told  that  Mr. ,  having 

imported  a  turtle  from  Jamaica,  guttled  down  for 
nearly  three  hours  the  callipash  and  callipee;  or 

that  the  constant  practice  of  Mr.  was  to 

smoke  his  pipe  every  day,  after  dinner.  The 
epitaph-maker  will  do  all  that  can  be  done  for  such 
characters;  for  it  can  only  be  recorded  of  them 
that  they  were  born  and  that  they  died. 

During  my  visit  at  Georgetown,  the  melancholy 
tidings  were  brought  of  the  death  of  General 

152 


Washington.  The  inhabitants  of  the  town  were 
crowding  to  the  ballroom  at  the  moment  the 
courier  arrived  with  the  dispatch.  But  the  death 
of  so  great  a  man  converted  their  hilarity  into 
sorrow.  The  eye  of  many  a  female,  which,  but  a 
moment  before  had  sparkled  with  pleasure,  was 
nov  brimful  of  tears ;  and  they  all  cast  off  their 
garments  of  gladness  and  clothed  themselves  with 
sackcloth.  The  following  Sunday,  the  men, 
women  and  children  testified  their  veneration  for 
the  Father  of  their  Country  by  walking  in  proces- 
sion to  the  church,  where  Mr.  Spierin  delivered 
a  funeral  oration.  Never  was  there  a  discourse 
more  moving.  Tears  flowed  from  every  eye,  and 
lamentations  burst  from  every  lip.  Nor  were  the 
orators  of  America  silent  at  the  death  of  their 
hero.  They  called  all  their  tropes  and  metaphors 
together,  collected  all  the  soldiers  and  statesmen 
of  history,  and  made  them  cast  their  garlands  at 
the  feet  of  his  statue. 

I  look  back  both  with  pleasure  and  satisfaction 
on  the  time  I  passed  with  my  friend  at  the  conflu- 
ence of  the  Waccamaw  and  Winyaw. 

But  the  moment  was  approaching  that  called 
me  to  another  climate.  I  found  a  schooner  lying 


at  the  wharfs  of  Georgetown,  that  was  bound  to 
New  York,  and  thither  I  had  formed  the  resolu- 
tion of  going.  Our  passengers  were  composed  of 
a  Georgian  saddle-maker,  a  Quaker  and  three 
vagrants  from  New  England.  Of  these  the  Geor- 
gian was  an  original  character.  His  very  figure 
was  the  title-page  of  a  joke,  for  never  before  did 
I  behold  such  a  bed-presser,  such  a  horse-back 
breaker,  such  a  huge  hill  of  flesh.  He  exulted  in 
his  bulk,  and  informed  us  that,  on  first  coming  on 
board,  he  weighed  two  hundred  and  seventy-five 
pounds. 

The  wind  changed,  off  Cape  Hatteras,  to  the 
northeast,  from  which  quarter  it  blew  a  tremen- 
dous gale.  We  lay  to  in  a  most  miserable  condi- 
tion, wet,  sick,  and  unable  to  cook  any  food.  I 
now  sighed  for  Coosohatchie,  the  company  of  my 
pupils  and  my  walks  in  the  woods ;  but  my  ambi- 
tion of  travel  struggled  over  my  weakness,  and  I 
sought  refuge  in  jollity  with  my  portly  companion. 
"  What,  sir,"  said  he,  "  is  your  opinion  of  this 
wind  ?  "  "  It  is  only,"  answered  I,  "  a  topgallant 
breeze."  "  Only  a  topgallant  breeze !  "  exclaimed 
the  captain,  "  it  is  enough  to  blow  the  devil's 
horns  off!" 


The  gale  having  abated,  we  prosecuted  our 
voyage,  and,  on  the  morning  of  the  5th  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1800,  saw  the  high  land  of  the  Jerseys.  As 
the  day  advanced  we  could  distinguish  the  light- 
house on  Sandy  Hook,  and,  with  a  pleasant 
breeze,  were  wafted  to  the  wharves  of  New  York. 


CHAPTER  V 

MY  first  care,  on  returning  to  New  York,  was  to 
deliver  a  letter  I  had  been  favoured  with  from 
Mr.  Spierin  to  his  friend,  Bishop  Moore.  I  waited 
on  the  bishop  most  opportunely,  for  the  preceding 
day  he  had  been  applied  to  by  an  opulent  mer- 
chant to  procure  a  tutor  for  his  children,  and  I 
was  a  tutor  by  trade.  The  bishop  introduced  me 
to  Mr.  Ludlow  and  his  lady,  who  received  me 
with  formality,  but  whose  conversation  I  thought 
interesting,  because  they  offered  me  a  handsome 
salary  to  educate  their  children.  In  the  woods  of 
Carolina  I  had  received  eighty  guineas  a  year; 
but  Mr.  Ludlow  proposed  a  hundred.  I  therefore 
exchanged  my  lodgings  with  Major  Howe  for  an 
elegant  structure  in  Broadway,  and  took  posses- 
sion of  a  chamber  that  was  worthy  to  lodge  a 
prince. 

My  pupils  were  few  for  the  salary  I  enjoyed. 
I  had  only  three  boys,  Robert,  Ferdinand  and 

156 


Edward  —  I  delight  to  give  their  names  —  who 
possessed  much  suavity  of  manners  and  volubility 
of  tongue.  They  learned  very  well,  when  dis- 
posed to  learn  their  books ;  for,  as  I  was  restricted 
to  practice  only  blandishments,  their  application 
was  never  imposed. 

The  author  of  Arthur  Mervyn,  living  at  New 
York,  I  sought  acquaintance  with  a  man  who  had 
acquired  so  much  intellectual  renown.  I  found 
Mr.  Brown  quite  in  the  costume  of  an  author,1 
embodying  virtue  in  a  new  novel,  and  making  his 
pen  fly  before  him.  Mr.  Brown  occupied  a  dismal 
room  in  a  dismal  street.  I  asked  him  whether  a 
view  of  nature  would  not  be  more  propitious  to 
composition ;  or  whether  he  would  not  write  with 
more  facility  were  his  window  to  command  the 
prospect  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva.  —  "  Sir,"  said 
he,  "  good  pens,  thick  paper  and  ink  well  diluted 
would  facilitate  my  composition  more  than  the 
prospect  of  the  broadest  expanse  of  water,  or 
mountains  rising  above  the  clouds."  2 

1  By  the  costume  of  an  author  I  imply  a  greatcoat, 
and  shoes  down  at  heel. 

2  When  I  mentioned  this  reply  of  Mr.  Brown  to  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  literary  characters  now  living, 

157 


I  pass  over  common  occurrences  to  embrace 
again  Mr.  George,  who  had  left  the  academy  at 
Georgetown,  and,  like  a  true  poet,  was  without 
a  settled  habitation.  I  procured  him  lodgings 
under  the  roof  of  Major  Howe;  and,  the  better 
to  enjoy  a  freedom  from  interruption,  I  took  my 
friend  to  King's  little  tavern,  near  the  Presbyte- 
rian church,  —  where  we  drank  and  smoked  and 
chatted  and  laughed  till  midnight.  I  introduced 
Mr.  George  to  Colonel  Burr,  whom  I  had  not 
neglected;  and  I  also  presented  him  to  Bishop 
Moore,  who  had  procured  me  a  salary  of  a  hun- 
dred guineas.  I  have  ever  felt  the  highest  ven- 
eration for  the  dignified  office  of  prelate.  There 
are  many  of  different  feelings ;  but  as  the  English 
soldier  detested  a  Frenchman  because  he  wore 
wooden  shoes,  so  many  cannot  endure  a  bishop 
because  he  wears  lawn  to  his  sleeves. 

It  was  the  custom  of  Mr.  Ludlow,  every  sum- 
mer, to  exchange  the  tumult  of  the  city  for  the 
quiet  of  his  rural  retreat;  or,  in  other  words,  to 
remove  his  family  from  New  York  to  a  place 
called  West  Chester.  But,  knowing  that  Mr. 

— "  Sir,"   said   he,   "  this   American   author   cannot,    I 
think,  be  a  man  of  much  fancy." 

158 


George  was  in  some  solicitude  for  his  future  sup- 
port, and  being  myself  engaged  by  Caritat,  on 
liberal  terms,  to  compile  a  volume  of  modern 
poetry,1  I  presented  my  friend  to  the  family,  ex- 
tolled the  multiplicity  of  his  attainments,  and  re- 
signed to  him  my  place.  In  truth,  I  was  weary 
of  setting  boys  their  copies,  and  I  wanted  some 
remission  to  my  fatigue. 

Some  symptoms  of  the  yellow  fever  appearing 
in  New  York,  spread  universal  consternation,  and 
the  subscribers  to  the  volume  of  modern  poetry 
not  coming  in  crowds  with  their  subscription- 
money,  the  compilation  of  it  was  postponed. 
Being  now  without  any  determined  employment, 
I  had  nothing  to  detain  me  in  the  town,  and, 
transporting  my  books  and  luggage  over  to  Long 
Island,  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  procure  lodg- 
ings at  Newtown,  under  the  roof  of  the  Episcopal 

1  This  volume  of  modern  poetry  was  to  be  a  royal 
octavo,  of  one  thousand  pages.  It  was  to  contain  all  the 
poems  of  all  the  modern  poets.  Caritat  made  a  voyage 
to  England  with  no  other  purpose  than  to  collect  all  their 
works.  He  bought  up  all  the  modern  poetry  that  London 
could  furnish;  and  when  I  say  this,  I  need  not  observe 
that  the  ship  which  contained  his  cargo  drew  a  great 
depth  of  water.  The  pumps  were  kept  constantly  going. 

159 


minister,  Mr.  Vandyke.  He  was  a  garrulous, 
valetudinary  old  creature,  who  would  have  been 
excellent  company  for  the  elders  that  viewed 
the  Grecian  forces  from  the  battlements  of  Troy. 
The  parsonage-house  was  not  unpleasantly  situ- 
ated. The  porch  was  shaded  by  a  couple  of  huge 
locust-trees,  and  accommodated  with  a  long 
bench.  Here  I  often  sat  with  my  host,  who,  like 
Parson  Adams,  always  wore  his  cassock,  but  he 
did  not  read  Aeschylus.  Alas!  the  old  gentle- 
man was  not  descended  from  the  family  of  the 
Medici;  nor  would  learning  have  been  ever  in- 
debted to  him  for  its  revival.  Mr.  Vandyke  was 
at  least  sixty;  yet,  if  a  colt,  a  pig,  or  any  other 
quadruped  entered  his  paddock,  he  sprang  from 
his  seat  with  more  than  youthful  agility,  and  vo- 
ciferously chased  the  intruder  from  his  domain. 
I  could  not  but  smile  to  behold  the  parson  running 
after  a  pig,  and  mingling  his  cries  with  those  of 
the  animal. 

It  would  be  ungrateful  were  I  not  to  enumerate 
the  friends  I  found  on  Long  Island.  Mr.  Titus, 
who  lived  on  a  creek  that  communicated  with  the 
Sound,  both  feasted  and  caressed  me.  He  was  a 
worthy  old  gentleman,  and,  at  his  house,  as  in 

160 


the  days  before  the  flood,  they  were  eating  and 
drinking,  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage. 

Farmer  Moore,  brother  to  Bishop  Moore,  of 
New  York,  —  I  love  to  give  their  names  and  kin- 
dred—  always  entertained  me  with  a  hearty 
welcome.  Every  one  acknowledged  his  daughter 
was  charming: 

A  maiden  never  bold ; 
Of  spirit  so  still  and  quiet  that  her  motion 
Blush'd  at  herself. 

[SHAKESPEARE.] 

Indeed,  the  manners  of  the  whole  family  were 
worthy  of  the  golden  age. 

Mr.  Remsen,  who  lived  with  more  magnificence 
on  the  riverside,  opposite  Flushing,  gave  me 
sumptuous  dinners,  and  Madeira  after  each  re- 
past. His  lady  was  not  without  elegance;  but 
his  two  daughters  were  lovely. 

Nor,  in  enumerating  the  belles  of  Newtown, 
ought  I  to  omit  Mrs.  Dungan  and  Miss  Towns- 
hend,  who  dressed  with  splendour  and  moved  with 
grace. 

From  Mr.  Remsen's  dwelling  on  the  waterside, 
the  mansion  of  Mr.  Ludlow  could  be  clearly  dis- 
tinguished, lifting  its  proud  turrets  above  the 

161 


shore  of  West  Chester.  I  had  been  invited,  both 
by  the  family  and  my  friend,  to  visit  the  "  new 
house ;  "  and  having,  on  a  serene  day,  dined  with 
Mr.  Remsen,  I  was  paddled  in  a  canoe  from  his 
landing-place  to  the  opposite  shore.  The  little 
boys  shouted  with  joy  as  the  canoe  approached 
their  wharf,  and  George,  abandoning  an  epic 
^  poem  that  he  was  composing,  flew  to  my  embrace. 
/  I  was  ushered  into  the  parlour.  Everything 
breathed  splendour.  A  Turkey  carpet  covered 
the  floor,  and  the  richest  sofas  invited  repose. 
Negus  was  served  in  a  golden  cup  by  a  servant 
clad  in  a  magnificent  livery,  and  every  fruit  of 
the  season  was  placed  on  the  sideboard.  The 
room  was  soon  filled  by  the  family,  all  eager  to 
receive  me  and  do  the  honours  of  the  house. 

After  continuing  three  days  with  my  friend,  he 
accompanied  me  from  West  Chester  in  a  passage- 
boat  to  New  York.  It  is  almost  superfluous  to 
observe  that  we  passed  through  Hell  Gate.  At 
New  York  we  experienced  an  oblivion  of  care 
at  King's  little  tavern,  next  to  the  Presbyterian 
church,  which,  from  the  jollity  that  resounded  in 
every  room  on  a  Sunday,  brought  to  recollection 
the  proverb,  "  The  nearer  to  church  the  farther 

162 


from  heaven."  Here,  however,  we  drank  porter, 
smoked  segars,  and  forgot  we  were  tutors. 

Mr.  George  remained  with  Mr.  Ludlow  till  his 
quarter  expired,  when  it  was  concerted  by  every 
party  that  I  should  resume  the  place.  But  he  was 
not  long  unemployed ;  for  the  inhabitants  of  New- 
town,  being  in  want  of  a  teacher,  converted  a 
spare  dwelling  into  a  school  and  engaged  my 
friend,  on  liberal  terms,  to  educate  their  children. 

Mr.  George  was  now  on  Long  Island,  and  I 
had  received  a  very  polite  letter  from  Mrs.  Lud- 
low, who  entreated  me  to  hasten  my  return  to  her 
family.  For  my  part,  I  obeyed  her  orders  with 
alacrity ;  for  I  was  weary  of  the  cant  and  carping 
of  Parson  Vandyke,  who  so  overflowed  with 
Scripture  that  he  cudgelled  his  men  servants  and 
maid  servants  with  the  Bible. 

During  my  abode  at  West  Chester,  I  wrote  a 
novel  entitled  The  Farmer  of  New  Jersey,  the 
publication  of  which  inflamed  the  wrath  of  the 
Mohawk  reviewers.  In  my  preface  I  had  dis- 
dained to  deprecate  the  severity  of  their  censure, 
and  they  besieged  me  from  their  attic  stories  with 
the  javelins  of  criticism.  What  these  fathers  of 
American  criticism  chiefly  objected  to  was  the 

163 


style  of  the  book,  in  which  I  had  been  purposely 
unambitious  of  ornament.  That  they  could  spy 
a  mote  in  the  eye  of  their  neighbour  and  not  per- 
ceive the  beam  in  their  own,  the  following  pas- 
sage from  the  Mohawk  Review  will,  I  am  of 
opinion,  evince.  "  The  slightest  acquaintance 
with  the  history  of  literature  is  sufficient  to  con- 
vince the  most  ardent  admirer  of  simplicity  and 

vS    of  unadorned  truth  of  the  necessity  of  a  good 

™ 

style,  and  of  the  advantages  of  an  occasional  use 
of  its  highest  ornaments." 

Americans,  rejoice !  the  Augustan  age  of  your 
country  cannot  surely  be  remote  when  you  possess 
such  reviewers ! 

With  the  first  frost  the  family  of  Mr.  Ludlow 
removed  from  the  solitude  of  West  Chester  to 
the  gaieties  of  New  York,  and  I  again  took  posses- 
sion of  a  room  boasting  every  convenience  of 
accommodation,  where  I  could  prosecute,  without 
disturbance,  my  lucubrations  till  a  late  hour.  The 
library  of  Caritat  supplied  me  with  every  book 
in  the  French  and  my  own  idiom,  and,  before  a 
cheerful  fire,  I  could  pass  nights  of  rapture  in  the 
acquisition  of  elegant  and  useful  knowledge.  The 
emoluments  I  had  derived  from  the  publication 

164 


of  my  little  novel  induced  me  to  undertake  an- 
other, which  I  was  resolved  to  make  more  volumi- 
nous; for  Americans  expect  quantity  in  a  book 
not  less  eagerly  than  in  other  merchandise,  and 
the  maxim  of  the  old  Greek  is  not  yet  established 
in  the  New  World :  Meya  fttpMov,  ^a  icaxov. 

After  revolving  many  schemes,  I  was  deter- 
mined to  continue  my  former  narrative  by  writ- 
ing the  adventures  of  its  principal  character;  for,  A  \ 
in  The  Farmer  of  New  Jersey,  they  are  only  par- 
tially related,  and  William,  the  hero  of  the  tale, 
I  discovered  to  be  a  favourite  among  the  ladies. 
Having  finished  my  tale,  my  next  care  wa^to 
find  a  publisher;  for  which  purpose  I  addressed 
a  letter  to  the  editor  of  the  Port  Folio.  In  a  few 
days  the  letter-bag  was  distended  with  petitions 
from  the  Philadelphia  booksellers,  who  lavished 
every  allurement  of  eloquence  on  the  conven- 
ience of  their  presses  and  the  skill  of  their  work- 
men ;  but  none  offered  to  buy  the  manuscript,  and 
it  was  never  my  intention  to  give  it  away.  How- 
ever, my  prospects  were  soon  after  brightened  by 
a  letter  in  a  different  strain  from  a  copyright- 
purchasing  patron,  of  the  name  of  Dickins,  to 
whom  I  dispatched  my  manuscript,  together  with 

165 


a  letter  written  in  a  state  of  mind  that  generated 
the  €7r^o>  TTTepoevra. 

About  this  period  the  attention  of  the  public 
was  turned  towards  the  city  of  Washington, 
where  the  members  of  both  Houses  of  Congress 
had  assembled  to  decide  on  the  nomination  of  a 
President  for  the  United  States.  In  the  year 
/  1789,  General  Washington  was  chosen  President 
»  over  the  new  system  of  confederated  government, 
and  in  the  year  1793,  when  the  term  of  his  Presi- 
dency had  expired,  he  was  reelected  in  the  office. 
He  therefore  continued  four  years  more  invested 
with,  the  executive  power  of  the  government;  but 
at  the  second  termination  of  the  time  stipulated 
by  the  Constitution  for  a  new  election  to  be  made, 
desirous  of  retiring  from  public  business,  he  re- 
signed his  important  office.  This  was  in  1797, 
when  Mr.  Adams  was  elected  into  the  President- 
ship, and  Mr.  Jefferson  was  chosen  Vice-Presi- 
dent.  For  three  years  the  party  of  Mr.  Adams 
.  lost  none  of  its  influence ;  but,  in  the  fourth,  the 
contending  party  acquired  a  visible  ascendency, 
and  it  was  the  predominant  opinion  that  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson would  be  chosen  President  in  the  next  elec- 
tion. The  event  justified  the  expectation.  Mr. 

166 


Jefferson  obtained  the  suffrages  of  the  majority; 
he  was  elected  into  the  office  of  the  first  magis- 
trate of  the  nation,  and  Mr.  Adams,  who  still  had 
kept  at  Washington,  and  still  indulged  in  hope 
till  the  very  moment  that  fixed  his  doom,  now  felt 
himself  become  again  a  private  citizen,  and  de- 
parted the  same  night,  in  the  stage-coach,  for  his 
paternal  abode.  It  was  by  ballot  that  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son's right  to  the  office  was  decided;  for  in  the  ^ 
nomination  of  the  different  States  Mr.  Burr  had 
an  equal  number  of  votes;  but  a  ballot  assigned 
the  office  to  Mr.  Jefferson,  and  it  consequently 
followed  that  Mr.  Burr  became  Vice-Presid$r$. 

The  election  of  a  new  President  of  the  United 
States  could  not  but  engage  the  feelings  of  the 
public.  It  raised  the  expectations  of  some  and 
damped  the  hopes  of  others;  or,  more  properly 
speaking,  all  regarded  the  event  as  it  related  to 
their  interest.  The  city  of  Washington  was  now 
the  centre  of  attraction  to  the  nation.  Multitudes 
flocked  to  it,  in  different  directions,  to  hear  the  , 
inaugural  speech  of  Mr.  Jefferson.  Of  this  gen- 
eral enthusiasm,  I  was  not  without  my  share. 
Mr.  Jefferson's  Notes  on  Virginia  was  the  book 
that  first  taught  me  to  think,  and  my  heart  now 

167  t 


beat  with  the  desire  to  hear  the  accents  of  wis- 
dom fall  from  the  tongue  of  that  man  whose  pen 
had  engrafted  much  truth  on  my  mind.  I  there- 
fore departed  for  the  city  of  Washington,  pass- 
ing through,  in  my  way  to  it,  Philadelphia  and 
Baltimore. 


\      • 


168 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  In  this  city  may  that  piety  and  virtue,  that  wisdom  and 
magnanimity,  that  constancy  and  self-government, 
which  adorned  the  great  character  whose  name  it 
bears,  be  for  ever  held  in  veneration!  Here,  and  •* 
throughout  America,  may  simple  manners,  pure 
morals  and  true  religion,  flourish  for  ever  1 " 

THE  mind  of  the  traveller  must  be  abstracted 
from  all  local  emotion,  who  can  enter  unmpved 
the  city  at  the  confluence  of  the  Potomac  and 
Eastern  Branch.  He  witnesses  the  triumpn  of 
freedom  over  oppression,  and  religious  tolerance 
over  superstition.  It  is  the  capital  of  the  United. 
States  that  fills  his  imagination !  It  is  the  country 
of  Jefferson  and  Burr  that  he  beholds !  It  is  the 
rising  mistress  of  the  world  that  he  contemplates ! 
The  tract  chosen  for  the  city  of  Washington  is" 
situated  at  the  junction  of  the  Potomac  River  and 
Eastern  Branch,  extending  about  four  miles 
along  their  respective  shores.  This  territory, 
which  is  called  Columbia,  lies  partly  in  the  State 

169 


of  Virginia  and  partly  in  the  State  of  Maryland, 
and  was  ceded,  as  everybody  knows,  by  those  two 
States  to  the  United  States  of  America,  by  which 
it  was  established  the  seat  of  Government  after 
the  year  1800.  The  city  of  Washington  is  to  be 
divided  into  squares,  or  grand  divisions,  by  streets 
running  due  north  and  south,  and  east  and  west, 
/  which  form  the  groundwork  of  the  plan.  But 

/  from  the  Capitol,  the  President's  house  and  some 
of  the  important  areas,  are  to  be  diagonal  streets, 
which  will  prevent  the  monotony  that  character- 
izes Philadelphia.  We  here  perceive  the  superi- 

•\  i  ority  of  taste  in  a  travelled  Frenchman  over  a 
homebred  Englishman.  Penn  was  the  founder 
of  Vhiladelphia :  the  plan  of  Washington  was 
fe>rmea  by  Major  1'Enfant.  The  great  leading 
streets  are  to  be  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet  wide, 
including  a  pavement  of  ten  feet  and  a  gravel 
walk  of  thirty  feet,  planted  with  trees  on  each 
side ;  which  will  leave  eighty  feet  of  paved  street 
for  carriages.  The  rest  of  the  streets  will,  in  gen- 
eral, be  one  hundred  and  ten  feet  wide,  with  a  few 
'only  ninety  feet,  except  North,  South  and  East 
Capitol  streets,  which  are  to  be  one  hundred  and 
sixty  feet  in  breadth.  The  diagonal  streets  are  to 

170 


be  named  after  the  respective  States  composing 
the  Union,  while  those  which  run  north  and  south 
are,  from  the  Capitol  eastward,  to  be  called,  East 
First  Street,  East  Second  Street,  &c.,  and  those 
west  of  it  are,  in  the  same  manner,  to  be  named 
West  First  Street,  West  Second  Street,  &c.  The 
streets  running  east  and  west  are,  from  the  Cap- 
itol northward,  to  be  called  North  A  Street, 
North  B  Street,  &c.  and  those  south  of  it  are  to 
be  named  South  A  Street,  South  B  Street,  &c.  — 
There  is  not  much  taste,  I  think,  displayed  in  thus 
naming  the  streets.  Generals  and  statesmen 
might  have  lent  their  names  and  helped,  in  their 
graves,  to  keep  patriotism  alive.  A  wag  \vatild 
infer  that  the  north  and  south  streets  re&ived 
their  names  from  a  pilot,  and  the  east  and 
west  ones  from  an  alphabetical  teacher.  —  The 
squares,  or  divisions,  of  the  city  will  amount 
to  eleven  hundred  and  fifty.  The  rectangular 
squares  will,  generally,  contain  from  three  to  six 
acres,  and  be  divided  into  lots  of  from  forty  to 
eighty  feet  in  front  and  from  forty  to  three  hun-  ^ 
dred  feet  in  depth,  according  to  the  size  of  the 
squares.  The  irregular  divisions  produced  by 
the  diagonal  streets  are  partly  small,  but  com- 

17! 


monly  in  valuable  situations.  Their  acute  points 
are,  without  distinction,  to  be  cut  off  at  forty  feet, 
inasmuch  that  no  house  in  the  city  will  have  an 
acute  corner.  All  the  houses  will  be  of  stone  or 
brick. 

In  a  southern  direction  from  the  President's 

house,  and  a  western  one  from  the  Capitol,  are  to 

run  two  great  pleasure  parks,  or  malls,  which  will 

intersect  and  terminate  upon  the  banks  of  the 

Potomac;  and  they  are  to  be  ornamented  at  the 

sides  by  a  variety  of  elegant  buildings,  and  houses 

N  ^^    for  foreign  ministers.    Interspersed  through  the 

city,  where  the  principal  streets  cross  each  other, 

^   is  fo^be  a  number  of  open  areas  formed  of  various 


Fifteen  of  these  areas  are  to  be  appro- 
priated to   the  different  States   composing  the 
Union;    and,  while  they  bear  their  respective 
names,  be  consecrated  to  the  erecting  of  statues, 
obelisks,  or  columns,  to  the  memory  of  their  de- 
parted heroes,  statesmen  and  poets.   Upon  a  small 
eminence,  where  a  line  drawn  due  west  from  the 
•    Capitol,  and  another  due  south  from  the  Presi- 
'•     dent's  house  would  intersect,  is  to  be  placed  an 

equestrian  statue  of  General  Washington. 
•  The  navy-yard  and  marine  barracks  are  partly 

172 


constructed.  The  navy-yard  is  formed  by  the 
projection  of  a  wharf  into  the  Eastern  Branch, 
from  which  a  dock  will  be  produced  of  great 
capaciousness,  and  the  marine  barracks  are  de- 
signed to  form  a  mass  of  brick  buildings  two 
stories  high. 

A  road  is  making  from  the  Capitol  to  George- 
town, and  another  on  the  New  Jersey  avenue, 
between  the  Capitol  and  Eastern  Branch.  In 
effecting  the  last  object,  the  declivity  of  the  ab- 
rupt hill  to  the  south  of  the  Capitol  has  been 
effectually  removed. 

Of  the  public  edifices,  the  Capitol  and  Presi- 
dent's house  are  the  most  magnificent.  Theygflre 
built  of  freestone,  —  resembling  the  whit^and 
red  Portland,  —  which  is  dug  from  inexhaustible 
quarries  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac.  To  the 
builder  of  the  President's  house  might  be  applied 
the  epitaph  of  Vanbrugh : 

Lie  heavy  on  him,  Earth ;  for  he 
Has  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  thee ! 

The  Treasury  and  War-office  are  constructed 
with  brick.  Some  have  objected  that  the  public 
offices  are  so  remote  from  each  other  as  to  ob- 


struct  the  business  of  state.  A  shallow,  gothic 
remark!  The  symmetry  of  the  city  would  have 
been  destroyed  had  these  buildings  been  more 
contiguous.  The  Capitol  is  admirably  situated 
on  an  ascent  called  Capitol  Hill.  The  name  of 
Capitol  associates  the  noblest  ideas  in  the  mind. 
It  has  a  Roman  sound!  In  our  enthusiasm,  we 
behold  Virtue  and  Freedom,  which,  alas!  have 
been  so  long  extinct,  again  descending  from 
heaven  and  fixing  their  abode  in  the  western 
world. 

-,  Between  the  Capitol  and  the  President's  house 
there  has  been  dug  a  well  which  suddenly  over- 
flowed, continues  to  overflow,  and  will  probably 
fore^r  overflow.  The  proprietor  of  the  well 
informed  me,  that  having  dug  it  about  eleven  feet 
deeft  and  five  and  a  half  in  diameter,  the  water 

rose  with  impetuosity,  and  increased  the  diameter 

P 

to  len  feet.    He  afterwards  sounded  with  a  plum- 

met,  and  found  it  had  sunk  another  foot.    It  had 

continued   to   overflow   without   remission,   and 

*/   runs  into  the  woods  across  the  road  before  the 

V 

Ijpuse.  —  This  wonder-working  well  brought  the 

idle  in  crowds  to  behold  it;   and,  though  it  had 

V   been  scarcely  dug  a  month,  the  man  who  shewed 


it  to  the  gazing  multitude  made  no  scruple  to 
affirm  that  it  was  not  only  the  astonishment  of 
America,  but  also  of  Europe ! 

Of  the  noble  river  Potomac,  on  whose  banks 
and  those  of  its  Branch  the  proud  structures  of 
Washington  are  to  lift  their  heads,  it  may  not  be 
unimproving  to  give  some  account.  The  Poto- 
mac rises  in  the  Allegheny  mountains,  and  after 
a  serpentine,  but  majestic  course  of  four  hundred 
miles,  it  falls  into  the  Bay  of  Chesapeake,  which 
is  beyond  all  rivalry,  or  competition,  the  largest 

M 

bay  in  the  known  world.    At  its  junction  with  the      J" 
bay  it  is  full  seven  miles  in  breadth ;  which  grad- 
ually decreasing,  it  is  found  to  be  a  mile  broad 
at  Alexandria  and  Washington.    The  navigftion 
of  the  Potomac,  from  its  junction  with  the  Chesa- 
peake to  the  city  of  Washington,  is  incontrovert- 
ibly  tedious.     It  is  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty 
miles;  and,  in  a  severe  winter,  the  river,  in  the 
vicinity  of  Washington  and  Alexandria,  being 
entirely   frozen,   an   insurmountable   barrier   is 
opposed  to  the  skill  of  the  mariner.    But  the  East-.    <* 
ern  Branch,  it  must  be  confessed,  is  a  commo-^ 
dious  harbour  for  shipping.    It  is  deep,  and  not 
being  subject  to  freshets,  the  ice  is  without  any 


mischievous  effect.  The  Eastern  Branch  of  the 
Potomac  is  a  tributary  stream  to  it;  and  nature, 
by  their  confluence,  invites  the  building  of  a  city. 
The  Eastern  Branch,  at  its  junction  with  the 
Potomac,  vies  with  it  in  breadth ;  but,  in  tracing 

pm 

it  to  jts  source,  this  mighty  mouth  diminishes ; 
and,  at  Bladensburgh,  to  cross  its  rustic  bridge 
the  wheels  of  a  carriage  have  not  many  revolu- 
tions to  undergo.  The  Eastern  Branch  extends 
about  thirty  miles  from  its  discharge  to  its 
source. 

It  has  been  asserted  by  a  late  traveller  that  the 
Tiber,  which  supplies  the  city  of  Washington  with 
water,  received  that  name  either  from  the  Indians 

.or  the  first  locaters  of  the  land,  and  hence  is 
prophesied  the  magnificence  of  the  city,  which  at 
so«je  future  day  is  to  be  a  second  Rome.  Of  the 
errcffieousness  of  this  observation,  accident  one 
day  convinced  me.  Having  breakfasted  at 
Georgetown  (it  was  at  Mac  Glaughflin's  hotel), 
with  a  lively  young  Frenchman,  I  proposed  a  walk 
to  the  Capitol.  In  our  progress  through  the 

%  houseless  streets  of  the  imperial  city,  the  exces- 
sive heat  of  the  sun  provoked  thirst,  and,  to  allay 
it,  we  retired  into  the  woods  and  seated  ourselves 

176 


by  the  Tiber.  The  Capitol  was  within  view. 
'  Voila,"  said  my  companion,  pointing  to  the 
edifice,  "Voila  un  Capitole  sans  Ciceron;  et 
voici  [turning  his  finger  towards  the  stream] 
voici  le  Tiber  sans  Rome." 

"  Are  you  sure,  monsieur,"  said  I,  "  that  you 
call  this  stream  by  its  right  name?    Is  there  not     ^   ;• 
some  other  for  it  ?  " 

My  companion  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said 
he  could  not  tell.    At  this  juncture  a  group  of 
negro  boys  and  girls  came  to  the  stream  and        0 
filled  their  pitchers  and  pails.    I  addressed ,tfiem     / 
severally. 

"  How  you  call  this  little  river,  my  fine  fel- 
low?" 

"  You  stranger,  mossa  ?  "  £ 

"  Yes." 

"  Goose  Creek,  mossa." 

"Where's  the  Tiber,  my  good  boy?" 

"  Where  de  Tiber,  mossa  ask?  Me  never  hear 
of  the  Tiber ;  me  never  see  such  a  ting." 

After  this  let  us  hear  no  more  far-fetched 
stories  about  the  Tiber,  but  be  content  with  the, 

1  Of  this  I  have  the  further  testimony  of  Mr.  Ellicott, 
who  helped  to  project  the  city. 

177 


simple  truth  that  the  first  settlers  of  the  contig- 
uous lands  conferred  on  it  the  name  of  Goose 
Creek. 

Of  Goose  Creek,  or,  more  magnificently,  the 

Tiber,  the  water  is  excellent ;  and  it  is  in  contem- 

k.  . 

\     platio'n  to  collect  it  in  a  grand  reservoir  near  the 
/    Capitol  and  supply  the  houses  with  it  by  the 
means  of  pipes,  while  the  superfluous  water  will 
form  a  variety  of  fanciful  cascades,  delighting 
the  eye  and  refreshing  the  air. 

It  appears  to  me  that  the  President's  salary  is 
not^  adequate  to  his  house.    The  one  is  very  cir- 
cumscribed, the  other  of  vast  dimensions.    It  is 
^     .    /   a  shallow  policy  in  a  government  which  makes 
money  the  chief  good.     The  salary  allowed  the 
*  President  is  only  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  a 
year;   that  is,  about  £5,300  sterling,  a  sum  that 
may  enable  him  to  ask  a  friend  to  dine  with  him 
picnic, -but  will  not  qualify  him  to  impress  a  for- 
eign ambassador  with  much  veneration  for  the 
•  first  executive  office  of  America.    It  may  be  ad- 
vanced that  it  is  not  expected  from  a  republican 
^nagistrate  to  regale  his  guests  out  of  a  gold  cup. 
But.- for  the  manners  of  a  republican  chief  to 
be  absolutely  characteristical,  he  ought,  like  Fa- 

178 


bricius,  to  pare  his  own  turnips  and  boil  them 
himself. 

To  Franklin  must  we  look  for  the  source  of  this 
sordid  economy.  It  was  he  who,  by  diffusing  the 
maxims  of  Poor  Richard,  made  the  government 
of  the  United  States  a  miserly  body  politic/ tena- 
cious of  a  farthing,  or,  in  popular  language,  a 
nation  penny-wise  and  pound-foolish.  Frank- 
lin, when  a  child,  delighted  to  hawk  ballads  for  a 
halfpenny;  and  when  he  became  a  man,  to  save 
the  expense  of  an  errand-boy,  he  trundled  his 
wheelbarrow  through  the  streets.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  vaunted  philosophy  of  Franklin  and 'his 
discoveries  in  electricity,  he  is  certainly,  at  best,  \ 
but  an  ambiguous  character.  jllis  dereliction  of  , 
religion  has  already  done  more  inji  ry  to  the  •« 

.  '      a 

rising  generation  in  America  than  his  .  axmis 


will  do  good.     Where  Franklin  has  made 
man  frugal  he  has  converted  a  hundred*  men 

to  deism.     I  heard  the  infidel  Palmer,1  at  New 

i  •' 

1  Palmer,  Elihu  (1763-1800),  a  native  of  Connecti- 
cut, graduated  at  Dartmouth  College,  1787,  was  for  a 
short  time  a  Congregational  minister,  but  subsequent!)* 
became  a  deistical  preacher  and  a  violent  radical  pdHtical 
agitator.  —  Allibone. 

179 


York,  enjoin  his  hearers  no  longer  to  suffer  pas- 
sively the  flagrant  impositions  of  the  Scripture, 
but  catch  a  portion  of  the  spirit  of  a  Franklin 
and  avow  themselves  disciples  of  natural  religion. 
And,  I  doubt  not,  but  this  argument  of  this 
preacher 'succeeded;  for  where  a  man  has  one 

'-  •». 

'^    f    vice  ofnis  own  he  gets  twenty  by  adoption. 

Let  me  now  come  to  the  object  of  my  journey 
to   vVashington.     The  politeness  of  a  member 
from  Virginia  procured  me  a  convenient  seat  in 
the  Capitol;    and  an  hour  after,  Mr.  Jefferson 
entered  the  House,  when  the  august  assembly  of 
American   Senators   rose  to   receive   him.     He 
j   came,  howeve'r,  to  the  House  without  ostentation. 
t  His  dress  was  of  plain  cloth,  and  he  rode  on 
r  Horseback  to  the  Capitol  without  a  single  guard 
or  ever  servant  in  his  train,  dismounted  with- 
out/^ssistance  and  hitched  the  bridle  of  his  horse 
Jk        to  the  palisades.    Never  did  the  Capitol  wear  a 
more  animated  appearance  than  on  the  fourth  day 
of  March,  i8oi/-The  Senate  Chamber  was  filled 
with  citizens  from  the  remotest  places  of  the 
Union.     The  planter,  the  farmer,  the  mechanic 
"  "and  Smerchant,  all  seemed  to  catch  one  common 
transport  of  enthusiasm,  and  welcome  the  ap- 

180 


proach  of  the  man  to  the  chair  of  sovereign 
authority,  who  had  before  served  his  country  in 
various  offices  of  dignity;    who  had  sat  in  the 
famous  Congress  that  produced  the  Revolution, 
acted  as  Governor  to  his  native  State  and  been 
Minister   Plenipotentiary  to   a   foreign,  nation.     / 
Mr.  Jefferson,  having  taken  the  oaths  to  the  Con-  I 
stitution,  with  a  dignified  mien,  addressed- tlte 
august  assembly  of  Senators  and  Representatives.* 


v 

END   OF   VOL.    I 


^ 


I 


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